Sins Of The Father
by Larbo
Summary: An alternate history - what would have happened had the gang never gone to Pylea? In this story, Angel gains an adopted son and daughter and faces off against Wolfram & Hart.
1. Act I

**Sins of the Father**

**Prologue**

**Scene I**

_A coffee bar, filled to the rafters with businesspeople on lunchbreaks. The ringing of mobile phones is a constant layer of white noise, matched only by the ceaseless buzz of conversation from each table. A waitress is preparing two cups of coffee; two lattes, steaming hot. She whisks them expertly onto a tray and swishes deftly between the crowds, planting them on a table._

WAITRESS: Two lattés, one without sugar, one with lemon.

_We see the occupants of the table; rather surprisingly, they are hideously deformed demons, one of which, Utrech, sports three-feet-high horns from his forehead. His coffee mate, Yimsin, looks like a wax model in the latter stages of melting. Both are sporting rather ill-fitting suits._

UTRECH: (_patting his breast pocket_) Uh…how much do I owe you?

WAITRESS: Three-fifty.

YIMSIN: Three-fifty?! May your face and genitals become infested with parasitic lice for all eternity!

WAITRESS: Three-fifty, guy. Or I call security.

UTRECH: It's no problem. My friend…he's, uh, not from around these parts.

_The waitress gives Yimsin an appraising glance. A piece of his face is slowly peeling off, revealing raw bleeding bone and muscle underneath._

WAITRESS: Right.

_Utrech retrieves some truly ancient banknotes and pays her. She pauses long enough to give a very waitress-like sneer to Yimsin before vanishing back into the crowds. Utrech leans across the table and whacks Yimsin across the shoulder with a ha… with the thing on the end of his arm, which is at least vaguely hand-shaped._

UTRECH: Idiot! You don't go around cursing people these days!

YIMSIN: Have they developed good protection spells?

UTRECH: (_darkly_) No. They've developed _lawyers_. Now, you were the one who wanted to come up here for this, sample a little life I believe you said.

YIMSIN: Well, I was just tired of meeting in eldritch tombs at the witching hour and having to squint at everyone because there's only one candle lighting the place.

UTRECH: (_sighs_) You've lost your sense of style, my friend. I remember the days when the merest sight of horns had the humans running for cover, sacrificing their firstborns in a panic to escape our wrath. I turned up at a village in England a few centuries ago to check out the fishing and before I knew it, they'd burned every woman over the age of forty or with more than three facial warts.

YIMSIN: (_sipping his latte_) You get anything?

UTRECH: Three salmon. Not bad. One of them, I – oh, this is ridiculous. We're up here to discuss one thing, and it isn't fly-fishing in the seventeenth century.

YIMSIN: I _hate_ the big dimensional pile-ups.

UTRECH: Tell me about it. There was a small localised disturbance around that Sunnydale place a few years ago, come to think of it. We were ready to mobilise, but it sorted itself out before we got there.

YIMSIN: I never heard about that.

UTRECH: (_smugly_) Well, you don't keep your ear to the ground, do you.

YIMSIN: I do if I want it to stay attached. But whatever happened in Sunnydale is going to be nothing compared to this one.

UTRECH: You're not wrong there. And they're not even sure how much we can intervene. Something about the rules.

YIMSIN: You've heard the rumours, though, I assume.

_The mood changes. Both demons lean protectively over their coffees, sending furtive glances around the shop. Utrech licks his lips with a forked tongue._

UTRECH: You don't mess with the big things, my friend. Especially not something like…like, well, this. It's over my horns, way over my horns.

YIMSIN: But it can't be – I mean, the…?

UTRECH: Ssssh! Shut up, you fool! Don't even say it!

_They attempt to sit back and nonchalantly sip their lattes, which, for two demons in a packed city centre coffee bar, is a pretty mean feat. Yimsin is on the point of speaking again when a young businesswoman taps Utrech on the shoulder._

BUSINESSWOMAN: You mind if I use this seat? Thanks.

_Without waiting for a reply, she promptly sits down between the two demons, sighing loudly at the world in general and taking out a small compact mirror to adjust her tousled hairstyle in minute detail._

_At a loss for words, Utrech and Yimsin stare at each other for a few moments._

YIMSIN: Er…so, you were saying…?

UTRECH: Me? Uh (_gulps his coffee_) yes…I think we should, er, just observe the events and not commit ourselves for the time being. We can't stop the…the diversification process, that much we know. It's out of our hands.

BUSINESSWOMAN: Diversification – oh, don't talk to me about it, _please_ -

YIMSIN: (_bristling_) That was the plan.

BUSINESSWOMAN: - if I hear that damn word one more time in one more meeting, I swear I'll take an axe from my bag, bury it in the throat of whoever said it and dump their still-bleeding bodies into a rat-infested sewer.

_There is a moment of contemplative silence._

UTRECH: What it lacks in panache, it makes up for in emphasis, I suppose.

YIMSIN: You're sure we're not still (_he points downward with his index finger and thumb; there is a small, wet thump_) oh for – my _dialling_ finger –

UTRECH: No, this isn't Central Office. Yet, anyway. (_sighs_) _What_ are you doing?

YIMSIN: (_from under the table_) It's under here somewhere…give me a second…

BUSINESSWOMAN: Is your friend all right?

UTRECH: Oh, yes. He's just falling apart under the pressure a little, I'm afraid.

YIMSIN: (_muffled_) Oh, ha bloody _ha_ –

_Utrech becomes aware that the woman is staring at him. He turns to her and smiles, a trifle uncertainly under her appraising scrutiny. She smiles thinly and extends a perfectly manicured hand. Utrech glances down at his own clawed monstrosities._

UTRECH: I don't shake hands. Sorry.

BUSINESSWOMAN: Wise. Very Eastern. I like that.

UTRECH: East isn't _exactly_ the direction I had in mind.

BUSINESSWOMAN: Here's my card.

_She proffers him the object in question just as Yimsin emerges from beneath them triumphantly, flexing his newly-reattached finger with a grin. He takes in the situation in a moment and fixes Utrech with a very interested stare. Utrech squirms._

UTRECH: Thanks, but I don't think I'll be needing it. You see my dear, we're from different sides of the fence. We have different outlooks on life, different priorities. Besides which, I'm a demon using an appearance-suppression spell on you. Allow me to demonstrate –

_He clicks his fingers. The businesswoman rockets from her chair, screaming incoherently, pointing in terror at a bemused Utrech. The other customers send puzzled glances her way as she scrabbles desperately out of the coffee shop and into the daylight of downtown LA outside, crying out for help._

_All eyes are on the two demons._

UTRECH: (_to everyone, puzzled_) All I did was offer her a Nasdaq portfolio.

_There's a mass scraping of chairs as everyone pulls a little further away from him. Otherwise, though, the shop returns to normality._

YIMSIN: There's something to be said for tombs, you know…

**Scene II**

_Outside, in the countryside it would appear. The scene should be strangely familiar. Our two coffee buddies are strolling casually along, soaking up the mild autumnal rays with what seems like not a care in the world._

UTRECH: If only all Hell dimensions were like this. Most of them are horrific. Twinned with black holes & Belgium. But this…if it weren't for the locals, of course.

_On cue, a pair of riders thunder past. Both sport deep green skin. They completely ignore the two demons; we're not sure if another spell is at work or if it's out of a sense of self-preservation._

YIMSIN: There they go. (_pauses_) You know, we _could_ –

UTRECH: We could. Certainly we could. Absolutely we could. In a second.

_They watch, along with us, as the riders stop at the entrance of a cave about thirty feet away. Green figures disappear into its interior._

YIMSIN: Vampires can walk in daylight here, you know. Interesting fact.

UTRECH: See? This place has its place. You watch; some enterprising shaman will get a nice stable portal system rigged up sooner or later, and we'll have vampires sporting all-over tans. Hah!

_The figures reappear. Yimsin and Utrech are growing increasingly uneasy. The twin burly green figures are dragging a smaller shape between them. The distance is not enough to smother screams and squeals of terror, unmistakably female in origin. A green hand lashes out, plunging the scene into a temporary and terrible quiet._

UTRECH: Here we go. Ten, nine, eight –

_The limp figure is dumped on the grass for a moment in order for its captors to steady their horses. As soon as their backs are turned, however, it springs to its feet and begins to sprint towards a thick copse of trees twenty feet away. _

UTRECH: Seven, six, five –

_Realising they will never mount their horses and bring them to a gallop in time before the prisoner reaches the cover of the trees, the former captors reach into their halberds and produce two very mean-looking crossbows, dropping to their knees to achieve a better firing position._

UTRECH: Four, three, two –

_One string is released. Stumbling slightly in her abject panic, the fleeing prisoner actually jinks out of the way of the arrow quite involuntarily._

UTRECH: One –

_The second string is released. We stay on the faces of the two watching demons. A merest flicker of emotion passes over their features – causing Yimsin's left nostril to slip down his face a fraction._

_The view changes. The figure is still moving toward the wooded safety of the copse. The difference being, she's now crawling along. A black line protrudes from her left shoulder. We watch as the two captors, taking their time, stroll across the grass and stand over her for a moment. One, he who missed with the first shot, has had time to reload his bow._

_He aims for only a moment_.

YIMSIN: (_glancing around_) Funny. I keep expecting…fireworks. Eclipses of the suns, rains of blood and small fish. At least a crack of thunder, a voice saying –

_His mouth falls open, and when we say open, we mean OPEN. The next words boom forth like proclamations from the mouth of doom itself._

YIMSIN: YOU KNOW NOT WHAT EVENTS YOU HAVE SET IN MOTION! THIS SMALL ACT SHALL SHAKE REALITY! MANY SHALL PERISH!

_The two riders are unimpressed; it seems our observers really are out of synch in some fashion with this reality. Such is the volume with which Yimsin spoke that the syllables actually take some time to die down._

_Utrech casts a sidelong glance at his companion._

UTRECH: Remind me to call you next time I'm going for drive-thru.

_They fade into transparency, the two riders thundering past where they stood bare seconds after they are gone._

**END PROLOGUE**

**MAIN 'ANGEL' TITLES**

**Sins Of The Father**

**Act I, Scene I**

_The hotel. Cordelia and Wesley are engaged in discussion by the reception desk. _

CORDELIA: …it's not right.

WESLEY: I understand your feelings on it, Cordelia. But the fact remains th-

CORDELIA: Don't _give _me that, Wes. This is a place of _work_, okay? It's not somewhere where…where people can just come and stay, like-

WELSLEY: …like a hotel…

CORDELIA: Well, exactly!

_She stops and narrows her eyes at Wesley, who licks his lips and tries not to look smug. Cordelia now feels the need to punctuate her speech with points of the letter opener on the reception desk, causing Wesley to take a quick half-step back._

CORDELIA: Why couldn't Anne and her little Noah's Ark for hobos have taken them in? That is what that place is for, isn't it?

WESLEY: It's a shelter, Cordelia, yes. But it's for people who need a roof over their heads and no questions asked-it's not for people who need protecting. Anne's project would be the first place they'd be looked for.

CORDELIA: You know what I mean.

_She walks away, busying herself with some menial task or other. Wesley follows her at a safe distance, realising that she's not quite out of her temper yet._

WESLEY: I don't, actually. I would have thought you would have been quite pleased.

_Cordelia spins around, astonished._

CORDELIA: _Pleased! _Have you _completely _lost your mind!

WESLEY: Well, it's just that you often seem…er…quite…well, um, all I'm saying is that I sometimes think…

CORDELIA: Spit it out, Wes.

WESLEY: …that you spend too much time around terribly serious people. You're young, and you're beautiful…(_Cordelia is surprised and pleased, Wesley struggles to continue_)…you try your best to keep this place light, but sometimes I think we're doing something to dull what you are. With these new arrivals, maybe you'll have some people to talk to who aren't all that terribly old and serious.

_As Cordelia digests this, still a bit stunned, Angel emerges from a nearby doorway._

ANGEL: Everything OK? I heard-

CORDELIA: Everything is fine. I'll…get some coffee.

_She strides away quite jauntily, with a parting grin at Wesley. Angel walks over to him and they watch as Cordelia disappears out of sight._

ANGEL: Well?

WESLEY: Worked like a charm.

_They shake hands triumphantly._

WESLEY: (_wryly_) I suppose you don't spend over two centuries around women and not learn a thing or two about how they work…

ANGEL: Wesley, you'd be amazed how wrong you are.

_He meets Wesley's look with a sheepish shrug._

**Act I, Scene II**

_A flashing-image break brings us back to the reception area, some time later; the usual trio have been joined by Gunn, who stands next to a collection of plastic bags stuffed with clothes. Beside these stand two rather sullen youths, a boy and girl of about seventeen. They stand close to one another and stare balefully; we cut to Angel, Cordelia and Wesley, the latter pair wearing wide and nervous grins._

GUNN: Can't thank you enough for this, man.

_He and Angel shake hands. Angel casts a quick look at the two kids, sizing them up again. They stare back, hostile._

ANGEL: No problem. Should be…an experience. As long as they're toilet-trained?

_This is greeted with universal silence. Cordelia steps forward with a sigh._

CORDELIA: That was a joke. Don't worry, after a while you come to recognise them coming. I keep asking him-just wave a flag, make things easier. So you'd be-

_She approaches the young woman with a reassuring grin, hand outstretched. After a long moment the gesture is accepted. Melissa has an air of easy confidence about her-though she's some inches shorter and years younger than Cordelia, she shakes hands as if they are equals. They are in many ways; Melissa has short brown hair and is a pretty girl, though her casual wardrobe of a simple black top and blue jeans hints that she's not of the mindset to make the most of her figure. _

MELISSA: Name's Melissa. Don't call me Mel.

CORDELIA: (_indicating herself_) Cordelia. Don't even _think_ about Cordy, kay?

_Without warning Wesley steps forward and vigorously pumps the hand of the young man. As usual, he's overcompensating for his own nervousness._

WESLEY: And you must be Jules! Gunn's told me all about you, young man!

_Jules removes his hand very slowly. He's tall for his age, taller than Wesley and about the same height as Angel. He's not powerfully built but, like Melissa, has the look of someone who's had to survive and is by now pretty good at it. There's a bruise on his right cheek which is testament to that. Only Jules' blue eyes seem out of place; a touch of light on a pretty dark face._

JULES: Don't ever touch me again.

MELISSA: Ah c'mon Jules, the guy's not like that, he's just an idiot.

CORDELIA: Wow, these kids are _sharp_.

_Gunn steps in front of them. They look at him differently; there's a lot of respect there, and a healthy dose of fear too._

GUNN: These people are my friends, you got that? You know I'm gonna sort out your problems back in the district. Until that time, until I say things are safe, you're staying here. Give these people some respect, they earned it.

_Cordelia, Angel and Wesley seem pleased at this._

ANGEL: Time to check in.

**Act I, Scene III**

_Cordelia is showing Jules and Melissa their room. They begin to unpack their things; which basically entails the emptying out of the contents of the bags onto the floor and the beds. Cordelia watches._

CORDELIA: Here's a fun fact; this building was condemned. So we're not too sure about the foundations or anything. Basically, don't set anything on fire and we should be okay.

_She is ignored._

CORDELIA: Can I just say that you two are really, _really_ good at the sulking? I mean I thought I was good at your age, but obviously I was just an amateur. (_no response_) Right…I'll just leave you two alone now, so you can talk about how incredibly old and stupid everyone is and how no-one understands your plight and suffering. Oh and by the way, mealtimes? Pretty much random around here.

_She leaves. As her footsteps get fainter Jules and Melissa share a single glance and begin repacking their bags. They open the door to the corridor and, assured that its empty, begin walking quickly along it. Both wear determined expressions, they're set on this course of action and nothing will deter them. Rounding a corner, they bump squarely into Angel._

ANGEL: Dissatisfied with the service?

JULES: Get out of our way.

_He and Melissa try to push past Angel, who simply pushes them into the wall, pinning them effortlessly. He seems not surprised in the slightest by this turn of events._

ANGEL: Let's see if I can move things along a little quicker. You both like Gunn, but you don't think he spends enough time in the district anymore to understand what's going on. You don't think he can protect you from the mess you're in now. And the people he's placed you with, they mean well, but they're do-gooders and won't lift a finger to help you if you're _really_ in need. So you're gonna keep running, maybe try to get a few states away and start living the old life all over again. (_to Jules_) Try to stay out of jail, (_to Melissa_) try not to get pregnant. You think you're smart enough to avoid the traps out there that everyone keeps telling you about, right?

_Jules and Melissa make no reply._

ANGEL: I don't mind telling ya, that's one of the longest speeches you're ever likely to hear me make. Don't tell me I was wasting my breath.

MELISSA: What do you want us to say? You've got us bang to rights, we admit it, we're stupid kids, yeah? Would that make you feel like the great psychologist or something?

ANGEL: I'm not doing this to be _right_. I'm telling you that your neat little ideas about life you probably formed from TV aren't gonna fly here, because I'm sure as hell _not_ thinking right now that you two are the street-urchins-with-hearts-of-gold.

_He removes his arm but continues talking. Neither Jules nor Melissa make any attempt to barge past him as he does, but they still cannot look him in the eye._

ANGEL: You need help. I give help. And if you think I-all of us-in this building won't protect you, then you're wrong. You're safer here than anywhere else. Walk out that door and you're on your own. You want to be treated like adults, you'll be _dead_ like adults. Your choice.

_He turns and walks away._

JULES: Hey…if you want us to trust you…tell me one thing, and don't lie.

_Angel turns._

ANGEL: Yeah?

JULES: Is it true what they say about you?

_Angel hesitates for a moment, then seems to come to a decision. His face morphs and contorts from his human visage to the demonic vampire countenance, his canines elongating and his forehead coming together._

ANGEL: What do you think?

_He turns again and starts walking._

JULES: Actually Gunn told us about the vampire thing. What I was gonna ask was-is it really true you can't _ever_ get off?

ANGEL: As I said…_anytime_ you wanna walk out that door, feel free.

**Act I, Scene IV**

_A vampire nest, as usual an abandoned nondescript warehouse. Two of the creatures close in on the terrified victim, a young man in his twenties. He screams long and loud. The first vampire closes in on the neck when something makes him stop. A shadow crosses the room quickly…the room's occupants, five vampires, glance around, sniffing the air like animals. The occasional squeal and moan from the victim is the only sound in the room._

_There is no warning. A shadow detaches itself from the walls and begins cutting a swathe through the vampires. We focus on the victim as the battle rages, his eyes wide and staring as bodies are tossed around him, crumbling into dust as they impact upon the walls and floor. Guttural yells of rage and the cracking of bones make for a chaotic few moments. Eventually the sounds of death cease, and the victim's neck cranes up…and up…_

_A very large vampire grins down._

THE DUKE: This is turning out to be a really _bad_ night for you, right?

_He lunges downward. We get one more scream._

**Act I, Scene V**

_Wesley opens one of his 'big ole books' at a specific page, which displays a picture of the vampire we've just seen. He slides the book over to Angel; all four members of the team are assembled around the lobby's table in full briefing mode. Cordelia and Gunn crowd around to get a look at the picture._

WESLEY: Name as a mortal was Michael Brooke, but for the past couple of decades he's gone by the rather grander title of…

ANGEL & WESLEY: …The Duke…

GUNN: (_to Angel_) You _know_ this dude?

ANGEL: Thought he was dead (_off looks from others_) I mean…_dead _dead.

WESLEY: Sired in Ireland at the start of the twentieth century.

CORDELIA: Go Ireland. For such a small place, it has a knack of producing some top grade monsters.

ANGEL: Is it wrong that I'm a little bit proud?

WESLEY: The Duke is a rather special case…judging from case accounts and reports, he seems as fond of killing his own kind as he does of more conventional types of vampire activity.

ANGEL: He always hated the weak.

GUNN: If this is anything to go by (_he lifts the picture_) still leaves hell of a lot of folks he'd be pretty pissed at. What's he doing here in town, anyways?

WESLEY: Well…er…

_He glances at Angel, who catches the look._

ANGEL: I fought him once. Wasn't long after I'd been cursed, we came across each other. He was young, cocky. Wanted a big name under his belt to start his career.

GUNN: What is he, a boxer?

WESLEY: He was, of sorts. A pit fighter. As has happened before, his mortal personality had an effect on him even after he was sired…one might say…

CORDELIA: He's a vampire with a _Rocky_ complex?

_Wesley struggles to fit this pop culture definition in with his grander visions, but eventually concedes defeat._

WESLEY: …well, yes…

ANGEL: He caught me in a bad mood that day.

_Something in his tone makes the other three sit up and take a little more notice._

GUNN: You beat the crap out of him, didn't you?

ANGEL: (_thoughtfully_) I had the chance to stake him, and I told him that he wasn't even worth that much. Told him to try again sometime, when he was ready…

CORDELIA: OK, see, you said bad mood, not _incredibly stupid_ mood…

ANGEL: At least we know where he's headed.

WESLEY: We need to make prep-

_He is interrupted by the appearance of Melissa and Jules, who charge down the steps into the lobby and crash down on the communal sofas with practised ease._

MELISSA: Hey all.

_She grabs the book and begins scanning down the page before anyone can stop her._

MELISSA: Wow…this guy is _huge_. This book stinks pretty bad, doesn't it? _Heyyy_-

_Wesley, fairly having a cardiac arrest by this point, has snatched the book back and now lovingly cradles it in his arms protectively, staring open-mouthed in shock at the girl, unable to believe what she has just done._

CORDELIA: Ooooh, you touched his books. It took me months. In the end I felt we'd shared something special.

GUNN: Melissa, dammit, I told you and Jules not to do this, didn't I?

JULES: What the hell did she do? If Ms Longstocking here and his slutty auntie can't handle somebody touching their precious first editions-

CORDELIA: Hey!

_Gunn leaps up from his seat, exasperated. Angel stops him with a hand on his chest._

ANGEL: This stops, now.

GUNN: Man, give them a chance, they just bein'-

ANGEL: I didn't mean the arrangement, Gunn. Just this argument. It stops, now.

_Gunn sits back down. In the moment of quiet which follows, Angel speaks, softly but firmly, in his own authoritative style which people listen to without knowing why. He addresses Melissa and Jules firstly._

ANGEL: I'm not gonna waste my time giving you a talk on respecting the goods and possessions of other people. We do important work here. Those books are old. If they get damaged, people might die because of it. So don't _dare_ accuse Wesley of getting his priorities wrong, understand that.

_After absorbing this, Melissa turns to Cordelia and Wesley._

MELISSA: Um…

WESLEY: No no, my dear, it's perfectly all right. I…er…admit to being a little protective over my books. No need for any sort of apologies, is there-?

CORDELIA: I'm thinking…words slutty and _auntie_!…yes.

WESLEY: Cordelia…

CORDELIA: But then again, I was known to make the odd cutting remark at that difficult, oh-_ever_-so-childish age…so let's allow it to pass, this time.

MELISSA: Actually, I was just gonna ask if there was any food on the go.

_Cordelia's eyes widen in outrage._

CORDELIA: You-!

JULES: Heh…she's just fooling with ya. Honest.

_Everyone turns to Melissa for confirmation of this claim. She responds with a shrug._

MELISSA: What can I say? I'm also known to make the odd joke at this difficult, ever-so-childish age.

_She and Cordelia face off, neither prepared to give an inch._

ANGEL: (_wistfully_) It'll be good to see The Duke again…

**Act I, Scene VI**

Back in Melissa and Jules' room. Both slouch as only teenagers can across their respective beds. The door is closed firmly, and each speaks in what is barely above a whisper. The scene is one of two people who are not used to privacy.

MELISSA: They seem OK.

JULES: They're not like us, Mel. I mean, they say they've done good things out there but I have trouble swallowin' that. That guy Wesley looks like he'd faint at a crossword puzzle. And as for the mouthy babe-

MELISSA: (_slight smile_) Babe, eh…?

JULES: Aw, c'mon, I'm not sayin' she's not fine but she's annoying. She says whatever she wants, almost like there's nothing between her brain and her mouth…

MELISSA: You're right. She sounds like…us. (_beat_) We should have her killed.

JULES: I give up. You're too damn smart for me, as usual. Which reminds me-?

MELISSA: I know, I know. They're going out later to search for this Duke guy, remember. We're s'posed to hang around here and not burn the place down.

JULES: And I thought this sanctuary deal was gonna be easy.

MELISSA: You trust Angel?

JULES: Yeah, I think I do. I didn't want to, but you can't help trust him somehow.

MELISSA: We've actually got someone who will look out for us, Jules. Now if I weren't a cynical sort, I'd be touched by that. Of course, we're still gonna have to make his life as much of a living hell as possible.

_She and Jules share a grin._

MELISSA: What sort of teenagers would we be otherwise?

**Act I, Scene VII**

_Melissa and Jules walk from the bottom of the steps into the lobby area, where another meeting is taking place. Angel and Gunn are tooled up for war; Angel has his arm stakes weaponry fitted, and Gunn is packing._

MELISSA: Are we allowed to ask, or what?

_Cordelia glances over, ready to begin another bout. To her surprise, all Melissa does is offer her a slight genial smile and a wink._

WESLEY: (_to Angel_) This is madness, Angel. Pure and unadulterated folly.

ANGEL: He asked, I accepted, Wes. You don't know how he works, I do.

_As the conversation continues, Cordelia detaches herself from it and comes over to the two, leaning in to whisper in a conspiratorial way._

CORDELIA: Basically; out on recon, Angel finds message from Big Rocky Vampire Guy naming a time and place for the big fight (_rolls eyes_) and so _naturally_ Mr Ever So Mature over there intends to go there with only Gunn as backup. Even though it is _so_ a trap…

GUNN: I like traps. You know what you're getting into with a good trap.

ANGEL: It's not a trap. It'll be him there, alone and unarmed. He likes audiences but he doesn't need them. All he's interested in is the contest.

WESLEY: You're planning to actually engage him? Using what? The late Marquis of Queensbury rules?

ANGEL: Relax, Wes. I can take this guy.

WESLEY: How can you be sure of that? You fought him decades ago, Angel.

ANGEL: Well, I have confidence in my ability to face him vampire-to-vampire, warrior-to-warrior, _mano-a-mano_, winner takes all. And I _also_ have full faith in Gunn's ability to shoot him in the back with a crossbow.

_He pats Gunn on the shoulder. Gunn hefts the crossbow and grins. The two move off toward the doors and the battle. Angel takes the time to call over his shoulder-_

ANGEL: They're allowed to use the fridge. But not the weapons cabinet.

GUNN: Yeah, that's kinda a grey area.

JULES: I _knew_ I liked his style.

**Act I, Scene VIII**

_Angel and Gunn in Angel's car, presumably on the way to the suggested meeting point. Gunn has reclined himself down as much as possible to avoid being seen._

GUNN: How are they doing?

ANGEL: They play loud music during the day. Jules is stealing some of my blood and using it to fingerpaint his walls with song lyrics. Melissa has gone about a project to catch me coming out of the shower with what I can only describe as military precision. They irritate Wesley to distraction, and I'm not sure I trust them.

_Gunn takes a long, long look at his friend._

GUNN: Is it just my crazy mind, or are you _enjoying_ having 'em stay?

_Angel makes no reply. Gunn grins and shakes his head, amazed and bemused equally._

ANGEL: It's not as bad as I thought it might be. They're still alive.

GUNN: I can't thank ya enough for not killin' them yet, did I mention?

ANGEL: Why are they so special to you, Gunn?

GUNN: Because they're smart. Scary smart. I knew a lot of poor kids, Angel. I was one. Most of them were OK with being victims. I wasn't. I had to use what I had, and what I had was on the end of my arms (_makes fists_) and my legs. Those two used what they had up here (_taps forehead_). They could be somethin', both of them.

ANGEL: They lovers?

GUNN: That's the funny thing…no. They've basically grown up together since they met, I think they were about age eight, something like that. Maybe someday they will be.

ANGEL: Somehow I think I'll be the first to know if they do.

GUNN: They like you, though. Easy to tell. I have a theory why.

ANGEL: Because they recognise that I'm a lost soul the same as they are, they know that I feel the same isolation from society but they also see how I don't let it affect me, and how sincere I am when I say that I'll protect them with my life.

_Gunn makes a face at this theory._

GUNN: Well, I was thinkin' more like because they're two little bastards who've just discovered the God of Brooding, but yeah, whatever.

ANGEL: Remind me again why I don't ever dock your pay?

GUNN: Remind me why you haven't hired yourself some other loser who's willin' to hide in the shadows with a crossbow and shoot a demon in the back?

_The car comes to a halt at a ruined service station, possibly host to a gun battle at some point in recent history. As Gunn buries himself in the front of the car, Angel exits the vehicle cautiously, glancing around._

ANGEL: Duke…?

**Act I, Scene IX**

_We see Angel and Gunn pulling away from the hotel as they did at the beginning of the previous scene, but this time from a different angle, some distance in the opposite direction. As the car vanishes the camera reveals the huge hulking figure of The Duke, watching. Cut to his face, which bares the scars received as a mortal and which subsequently never healed; a broken nose, dislodged cheekbones, the ravages of a life spent in the bareknuckle arena. When he speaks to himself he does so with an Irish brogue which is neither musical or lilting, but fast and hard._

DUKE: People change, Angelus. People grow, and they learn…that's what makes a good fighter a great fighter.

_He begins walking toward the entrance of the hotel._

**Act I, Scene X**

_Back at the service station. Gunn taps his fingers on the crossbow impatiently as he waits in the car. Angel prowls around outside, moving from pump to pump and glancing around_.

ANGEL: Duke, I'm gonna have trouble kicking your ass if you keep hiding like this. Now…I realise you might be scared, but that's only your natural cowardice, nothing to be ashamed of, we all havaaaaaagh-

_He falls to the ground in pain. Gunn is up and ready in an instant, his crossbow pointed and aimed in a fraction of a second. What he sees, however, presents him with no target; it is only Angel there, but he is in clear distress, on his knees in the dirt moaning. Gunn vaults over the hood of the car and runs to him._

GUNN: What the hell's wrong with you?

_We focus in on Angel's face. Abruptly the scene changes to the usual mixture of images and chaotic breaks and flashes of light which accompany the visions of Cordelia; we should see very briefly Melissa and Jules, the Duke, the hotel, Wesley and Cordelia herself, and sounds of suffering. Angel gasps with the intensity of the vision and the rush, until it breaks and he slumps to the ground. Gunn picks him up._

GUNN: Angel! _Angel_! You all right?!

ANGEL: A trap…a trap…

_He struggles to his feet, aided by Gunn, and staggers to the car. Motioning to Gunn to get in, they screech off at full speed. Angel is so caught up with driving as fast as he can and fishing his cellphone from his pocket that he ignores Gunn's obvious confusion until Gunn snaps._

GUNN: What just happened? Where are we going?

ANGEL: (_dialling_) Vision.

GUNN: Wait a min…you? I thought Cordelia was Vision Girl?

ANGEL: (_phone at ear_) I know.

GUNN: What'd ya see? Him?

ANGEL: (_to Gunn and into phone_) He's at the hotel. Now. Get out the back. I'll be there as soon as I can. Go!

_The sound of a scream comes over the cellphone. Angel's face morphs as he hears it. The car roars through a intersection at an incredible speed._

ANGEL: NO!

**Act I, Scene XI**

_The hotel lobby, before the events of the previous scene. Angel and Gunn have just exited the building, leaving Cordelia and Wesley facing Melissa and Jules. All four stare at each other a moment._

CORDELIA: TV?

WESLEY: Or a board game?

_Cordelia snorts derisively. Melissa and Jules exchange a long look. Wesley seems embarrassed._

JULES: Scrabble?

_He and Melissa grin at Cordelia's amazement. Wesley seems equally pleased._

MELISSA: I've always been a fan of Scrabble. Taught this guy everything he knows.

WESLEY: Splendid!

CORDELIA: Ugh. Please. Scrabble? Why don't we have a spelling bee and show-and-tell, make it a triple bill of how-to-not-have-fun-educationally.

MELISSA: Well, if high school girl is afraid of a street kid like me…

CORDELIA: Ah! Yeah! Right! I turned down more colleges than you've washed windshields. I am gonna kick your a…pos-terior. Or…I would…if we actually owned a Scrabble set…

JULES: We brought one. It's in our room.

MELISSA: Yeah, we'll get it now.

WESLEY: We'll be waiting!

_Melissa and Jules leap up the staircase and into the bowels of the hotel. Cordelia glowers after Melissa. Wesley saunters over to her, in quite a good mood._

CORDELIA: They brought _Scrabble_? What kind of kids are these?

WESLEY: I rather think th-

_He stops as the door to the hotel is opened. In, calmly, steps The Duke. He is immediately king of all he surveys; little wonder he has such a grandiose title. As Cordelia and Wesley back away in unison his massive head sweeps around to take in the décor, the ceiling, the floor…and lastly, the two humans._

DUKE: Good evening, sir. Good evening, madam.

CORDELIA: (_hissing to Wesley_) I hate the polite ones. Always nutser.

DUKE: Ah, now ye wouldn't be afraid of me, would ya? Don't be silly, sir, madam. I'm sorry to have to call ya both that but I'm afraid that ye have me at rather the disadvantage, y'see…

WESLEY: You set a time and a place with Angel, he's on his way there now.

DUKE: I know, I know that, yes sir.

_He takes off his overcoat and drapes it across the sofa, before going to the reception desk and running his hand along its surface with a smile. The politeness of the speech complements his regal bearing, but seems set at odds against the murderous glint in his eyes._

DUKE: A nice place he has here. Ah, (_holds up a finger_) I can't help noticin' that ye seem inclined to burst into a run…I'm talkin' to ya at the moment. I'm not finished. Now I reckon it'd be pretty damn easy for me to snap ye both in half, but that's not somethin' I'd want to be doin' just now.

WESLEY: What do you want?

DUKE: I've talked to an awful lot o' people about Angel, sir. And the more I did the more it seemed clear to me that he's got too much goin' for him with this nice wee set-up and all to play fair when I asked him. Now it's my own personal guess that he was plannin' on some type of shenanigans tonight. Tell me if I'm wrong?

_No response is forthcoming. The Duke nods, still not seeming angry._

DUKE: I appreciate your honesty, really I do. I heard Angel had a little run-in with Boone not a long time ago (_smiles_) sure he should be in fine form for me when he gets back. Until then…

_He looks at Cordelia and Wesley, who back onto the first stair of the staircase. Seeing this, the Duke smiles, quite amused._

DUKE: Look at ye both, expectin' me to fly at you at the drop of a hat. I _am_ thirsty as it happens, but something tells me Angel's not in the habit of snackin' down on his employees, so I think I'll just look around for where he'd be keeping his blood…oh by the way-

_He draws a handgun on them calmly, and motions for them to stop their retreat._

DUKE: These things save time and energy, they're marvellous. Now ye wouldn't think a vampire of the likes of me would be a good shot, would ya…but we must move with the times. I'll be wantin' you two to be nicely tied up. Give him something to fight for, that sorta thing. So get over here. Both of you.

_Powerless to do anything but comply, Cordelia and Wesley move toward the Duke._

**Act I, Scene XII**

_Jules and Melissa enter their room, having just arrived from reception. The hotel being large and the Duke's entry understated, they know nothing as yet of what has transpired._

JULES: Let's see what you got…

_Melissa produces various articles secreted about her person and dumps them on her bed. There are several pens and pages of various sizes and colours. She seems delighted with this haul._

JULES: You know Mel, they mighta just gave you the stuff, if you'd asked.

MELISSA: Yeah they might-but then they'd have been asking questions and getting all interested. Angel would have sneaked in here and read some of it…trust me.

JULES: Angel's a vampire, Mel. He can't come in here unless he's invited.

MELISSA: Really? Even though this hotel is his?

JULES: Hey, I never thought of that…

_Melissa taps him on the head, grinning._

MELISSA: See, these creatures of the night…they just don't _think_. If a vampire wanted to be unstoppable all he'd have to do is become real big in the world of real estate. Too many bloodsuckers in the law industry, not enough in property.

_She stashes the writing material under her bed securely._

JULES: What do you wanna do now?

MELISSA: We'd better get that Scrabble set we brought…

_They dissolve into laughter._

MELISSA: We'd better go back down. I don't want them prying around in here any more than I can help, and you know they'll be looking for us…

JULES: What are we gonna say when they ask about Scrabble?

MELISSA: Dunno, we'll think of something sulky enough to say that won't get us into trouble. Maybe we came up here, had us some sex, forgot about it?

JULES: I must have missed that.

MELISSA: You were fantastic, don't worry.

_They laugh…a little awkwardly. There is a slight pause; we feel that there is more to this situation than either are letting on, but neither seems willing to back away from the comforting levels of banter both have built up over the years. Not quite meeting each other's gaze, they exit the room and begin the walk back to reception._

JULES: You ever gonna let anyone read your stuff?

MELISSA: It's a possibility.

JULES: Me, for example?

MELISSA: Well, that would involve teaching you to read, Jules…so excuse me if I'm less than ow-

_She rubs her upper arm and returns the blow, causing Jules to wince._

JULES: I never called you weird for doing it, did I? You'd sit there, all quiet, just writing in the shelter and everyone else would be giving you a hard time for it; what was I doing?

MELISSA: Getting me paper.

JULES: All those crimes I went through to give your career a lift…I just want to know I didn't risk years in the slammer for nothing, is all. Plus, I know how smart you are; you've _gotta_ be good, what are you afraid of?

MELISSA: Being good.

JULES: What?

MELISSA: What d'you mean, _what_? How can I win? If you told me I was awful I'd say to myself _I can improve_. But you tell me I'm good…be real, Jules, what chance do I have, will I _ever_ have, of making a go of it? Let me enjoy being weird and dreaming, OK?

_This registers on Jules. He licks his lips. (this entire conversation is taking place while both are on the move)_

JULES: I'm sorry.

MELISSA: You'll be the first.

_The words hang_.

MELISSA: …to…read them. You'll be the first to read them.

JULES: Thanks.

_Again neither is willing to comment._

**Act I, Scene XIII**

_As we return to the lobby we get a quick flash of Angel in his car speeding through the streets. In the lobby itself, Cordelia and Wesley are now securely bound on the sofa at reception, though not gagged. The Duke idly leans against the reception desk, his gun resting in his hand. With his free hand he holds a tall glass filled with what is obviously some of Angel's private blood supply. He takes a swig._

DUKE: Ya know, there are some vampires who go through all sortsa hysterics when they have to sup a wee bit of the pig's blood in an emergency. I tell ya-(takes another swig)-it may not have the fizz, but it has the weight, you know? Sure they should stick one of those things that makes a pint from a can…a widget?…in it, it'd be fantastic.

_The two humans look more than faintly nauseated. The Duke finds this rather funny._

CORDELIA: What if Angel loses? (_beat_) Not that he's going to, but if he does…

DUKE: I dunno. I might let ye all go. I mean, I had to make the choice early on, kinda thing, either I kept up the belief in the honour of combat or I just started killin' and drinkin' all over the place like the rest of them.

CORDELIA: (_whispers_) He doesn't seem all that bad…

DUKE: On the other hand, a man's gotta unwind somehow. Yeah, I'll probably eat the lot of ya, come to think of it.

CORDELIA: _So_ glad we got that ironed out.

DUKE: (_shrugs_) At least I won't torture ya like some o' them would. Unless I'm lucky enough to mortally wound Angel, so he dies slow, and then…I dunno…I might make him watch, you know, the old 'rubbing the face in it' deal. (_thinks about it_) Yeah, that sounds good.

WESLEY: Just a suggestion, Cordelia. Stop talking to him. Please?

_The phone rings, cutting her off mid-curse. The Duke seems pleased at this. While it rings, he begins speaking to the two hostages._

DUKE: That'll be the boss, I suspect, callin' to report my no-show. Now I want a nice juicy scream out of ya. A big one, now, don't be afraid to be emotin' with this one. Pretend I've just bitten your friend there, say. (_considers this for a moment_) Y'know...

CORDELIA: All right, all _right_!

_The Duke nods, pleased, and picks up the phone. We hear-_

ANGEL: (V/O) He's at the hotel. Now. Get out the back. I'll be there as soon as I can. Go!

_While we hear Angel's voice, the Duke nods to Cordelia. She opens her mouth a little reluctantly…and is suddenly hit by a vision. As usual, it causes her immense pain and mental anguish. She strains against the ropes, screaming and crying._

ANGEL: (V/O) NO!

_The Duke ends the call, grinning. Wesley, by now having realised what has really caused Cordelia to play along, is trying manfully to strain at his ropes enough to see if she is all right. She is suddenly, abruptly, silent._

WESLEY: Cordelia? Cordelia? _Cordelia_…?!

**Act I, Scene XIV**

_Walking through the hotel towards the reception, Melissa and Jules stop in horror when they hear the screams coming from down there._

JULES: Sounded like Cordy…

_He makes to break into a run, and is caught by Melissa before he can do so. _

MELISSA: Would you ever _think_ for a moment! What the hell are we likely to be able to do about whatever is down there, huh? (_she looks frightened_) Besides, you know as well as I do who they're after.

JULES: I know that-but we can't…

MELISSA: We have to run. Now. This place isn't safe.

JULES: I can't just run and leave. You go, get safe. Cordy and Wesley might be dead already, I have to know.

_Melissa makes to argue, and sees the expression on Jules' face. She seems caught between anger at his stubbornness and a large tinge of shame at her own cowardice._

MELISSA: If you get killed, I'll-

JULES: -kill me?

MELISSA: Die.

_Jules says nothing._

MELISSA: Just go, you idiot. You know where I'll be.

_Jules runs off. Melissa looks after him, sighs, hisses in frustration again, then moves to follow him._

**Act I, Scene XV**

_Back at reception. The Duke has just completed a quick check of Cordelia's neck._

DUKE: She's alive, man. Calm down. Wow. That was some performance!

WESLEY: She had a vision, that wasn't acting!

DUKE: Vision?

_Wesley realises he's probably said something he shouldn't have. As the Duke is currently sitting next to him casually holding a gun, though…_

WESLEY: She…gets psychic messages. Usually accompanied by pain. She's never passed out before, please…I'm begging you, stop this.

_The Duke looks at him, incredulously._

DUKE: (_sarcastically_) Oh all right then, sorry to have you troubled ya, like. I'll just dismantle this plan I've been workin' on for ages because you're not having fun as a hostage, sure.

WESLEY: Angel will kill you.

_In an instant the Duke is by him, all geniality gone from his nature. He hisses into Wesley's face. _

DUKE: Maybe. But that's the nature of the contest. And don't forget, Mr. English Gentleman sir, another evil bastard vampire might just have been happy to swan in here and suck you and the Visionary there dry to get Angel nice and frothy. So far all I've done is wave a gun at you; nothing you wouldn't expect to find going jogging in this city. So maybe you'd best appreciate that you're not doin' _too_ badly, OK?

_We cut from the close-up of their two faces to the stairway leading down to the reception, where Jules is peering cautiously at the scene unfolding below, obviously pretty shaken by what's going on. His nerves are not helped by a sudden hand on his shoulder, and only Melissa's other hand clamped over his mouth muffles his alarmed yelp of panic. When he's come to terms with her sudden appearance, she removes her hand._

JULES: (_mouths_) What are you doing?

_Melissa holds up two crossbows, and grins. She hands the smaller one to Jules, who cannot quite believe what he's holding. Dumbfounded, he gapes at her. She leans across to him to enable her to whisper into his ear-_

MELISSA: Weapons cabinet a grey area my ass…

**Act I, Scene XVI**

_Angel's car. Angel's expression is one of truly fearsome concentration. Though we don't see the road (just a close-up of Angel and Gunn) we get the distinct impression that the car is doing close to a hundred through a busy city. _

GUNN: Man, will you tell me what the-TRUCK! TRUCK!

_The car sweeps around, missing an oncoming truck by millimetres and swerving through the onrushing traffic, cutting an erratic escape route and causing chaos in its wake. Gunn, standing up in his seat for a moment to check that no serious accidents were caused (and none were), sits back down and slams his fist against the dashboard in anger, frustration and a healthy dose of terror._

GUNN: You're gonna get us killed!

ANGEL: So buckle up.

_Gunn does so, fixing Angel with an evil stare._

GUNN: Just tell me what you saw. Is it Cordy? Wes?

ANGEL: All of us.

_Gunn is taken aback._

GUNN: All of _USSSSS_ (emits a brief cry of terror as the car navigates through another knot of stunned traffic) …what were we doin'?

_We close on Angel. Beat._

ANGEL: Arriving too late.

**Act I, Scene XVII**

_Back at reception. The Duke taps his watch idly, and glances at the door. He paces a little from the seating area which holds Wesley and the still-unconscious Cordelia. Noting this, Jules peeks a head around the stairway and waves a hand while the Duke's back is turned, trying to attract Wesley's attention. He succeeds. Wesley frantically motions with his head and mouths 'get out'. Jules shakes his head and holds up the crossbow, grinning. Wesley's eyes widen._

DUKE: Is she not awake yet? Tch.

_He turns, Jules ducks down out of sight. Wesley is seriously disturbed by this new development. He struggles to stay in focus to keep up with the smalltalk, but an idea occurs to him…_

WESLEY: (_loudly_) So, Duke…is it true you're a fighter of _incredible prowess_?

_The Duke frowns at this unexpected compliment._

DUKE: Aye, well…I don't like to be the braggin' type but…your friend Angel is the only person ever to have bested me in, well, must be a century or so.

WESLEY: You, er, don't seem to have much of a reach, if you don't mind me saying.

DUKE: Well I'm not much for reach. I'm more a power fighter.

WESLEY: Power will get you far, but surely you must realise…if you come up against an opponent with longer arms, better reach, you'll come off second best.

_The Duke is offended at this criticism._

DUKE: Rubbish, man, rubbish. Me reach is not that bad, look-

_He spreads his arms wide. For a good five, six seconds he is a perfect target for even an amateur shot with a crossbow, the gun pointing safely away, his chest open and exposed. Wesley, hoping and prodding for just this outcome, glances expectantly up at the stairway…_

_Time passes. Nothing happens. Wesley sighs._

DUKE: See?

WESLEY: (_now uncaring_) Yes, fantastic.

_The Duke turns around again for another look through the doorway. Jules pops up again with the crossbow and gives Wesley the thumbs-up. Wesley skewers him with a glance, then motions again for him to escape. Jules shakes his head, steps nervously out a little for a better shot…aims…_

_He shoots. By the time the arrow has reached the Duke, has spun around through one hundred and eighty degrees and caught it easily in mid-air. He inspects it with an air of interest, while we see Jules, panicking, start to reload._

DUKE: Nice work on this, y'know. Does he file them himself?

WESLEY: Get the hell out of here!

_Jules fires the second bolt from the crossbow. The Duke twists his body and reaches out another hand, lightning-fast, to snatch it from the air just as he did the first. He holds the two arrows in his grip for a moment before snapping both and allowing their broken remains to fall to the floor._

DUKE: You'll have to do a lot better than _nnnnnghhh_-

_A shaft suddenly bursts forth from his chest, just to the right of his heart. As he staggers forward slightly with the shock we see that Melissa is behind him; she has entered from the street. Presumably she went out the back while Jules was signalling Wesley. Melissa looks pleased with herself._

MELISSA: I thought if I waited until you were in the middle of one of those long speeches of y-

WESLEY: (_very urgently_) He's not dead! Both of you, run! Now!

_He is correct. The Duke breaks off the arrowhead with a grunt of pain, but is recovering with typical vampire-like speed, and growling in anger. His face has morphed into the demonic countenance._

_Jules, unwilling to take the risk of running directly past the Duke in order to escape through the front doors, instead turns tail and dashes back into the hotel._

MELISSA: Jules, no!

_Ignoring the obvious escape route of the doors directly behind her, she instead sprints for the stairwell, dodging a lunge from the Duke on the way. In the seating area all the bound Wesley can do is struggle vainly against his ropes. Melissa vaults up the stairs, the Duke in pursuit. Both disappear the same way Jules went._

_We hear a car screeching outside. Moments later Angel and Gunn burst in, weapons at the ready. They take in the scene._

WESLEY: He's gone after them! Go!

_Angel stops Gunn from following him with a hand on the chest._

ANGEL: Don't. Stay.

_Without another word, he disappears up the stairwell. Gunn, confused as hell, is about to follow him anyway when he notices Cordelia's unconscious form. He is over at her side in a moment._

GUNN: Is she-?

WESLEY: Only unconscious. She had a vision.

_Gunn begins to cut through their ropes with a knife._

GUNN: Her too?

**Act I, Scene XVIII**

_Jules charges down the corridors of the hotel at full pelt, terror giving him new levels of speed. He's running pretty much blindly. We see no signs of a pursuer. Jules, casting frequent glances behind him, notices this fact too. He slows to a stop in the middle of a long corridor, darkness shrouding much of it. He pants._

JULES: Mel…

_He takes a step back in the direction from which he came, agonised, clearly worried sick about Melissa-for all he knows, the Duke has gotten to her._

JULES: Mel? Mel…?

_There is a muffled high-pitched sound from around the corner at the end of the corridor Jules is approaching. Hearing this, he quickens his pace, his face pale with anticipation of the sight that awaits him. Just as he is about to turn-_

MELISSA: Jules?

_Jules freezes. Melissa stands at the opposite end of the corridor, beckoning him to keep running. Realisation dawns on Jules, too late…as he makes to run, the Duke springs from the shadows and brings him to the floor. Melissa calls out in horror and begins to run toward them as Jules fights off his attacker desperately, but he is hopelessly out of his league against the Duke, who savagely twists his forearms and brings his fangs to bear…_

_Angel appears at that moment, lashing out with a foot to the Duke's head to break off the bite, then following in with a slam to the body to make his opponent release his grip on Jules, who falls to the ground clutching himself. Melissa reaches him and begins to move him to safety as the battle commences between the two vampires. We see little of this conflict itself-we stay with the two fugitives, as Melissa drags the moaning Jules._

MELISSA: Your arms are broken, I think…try not to move them, you're going to be all right, you hear me?

_His face screwed up with pain, Jules can only manage a nod. Realising that for as long as they stay in the confines of the corridor they risk being exposed to collateral damage from the battle, Melissa kicks open the door of the nearest room and brings Jules in, props him up on the bed as he shakes in agony. The sounds of bodies being slammed are clearly audible from outside._

_A loud thump-presumably a hefty blow has struck home-makes the walls shake. Reacting instinctively, Melissa grabs hold of Jules' arm. When she realises what she's done, she lets go and is horrified._

MELISSA: I'm so sorry. Try not to make noise. I-I think this should be over soon…

_The door to the room opens, casting a rectangle of light over the pair. Mel sighs with obvious relief._

MELISSA: Finally!

_She turns around, and stares into the smiling face of the Duke._

DUKE: My thoughts exactly.

_We cut to outside the room. Angel lies sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. He stares blankly ahead, his limbs limp. _

DUKE (V/O) : He wasn't even worth staking.

_He fends off Melissa's blows easily, knocking her to the ground. Outside, Gunn and Wesley round the corner and take in the sight of the immobile Angel._

_The next few moments of this scene are played out silently._

_Melissa's soundless scream draws the attention of Welsey and Gunn, who burst into the room as the Duke is feeding hungrily from Jules. His body hits the floor. Gunn draws his crossbow and gets off a shot which the Duke manages to avoid, but as he does so Wesley rushes forward and catches him on the jaw with a straight fist. Gunn ditches the bow in favour of two stakes (which he pulls from a waist holster, rigged up from the aborted ambush earlier). Gunn throws the second stake to Wesley as both men tackle the vampire._

_Again, we cut from the battle to focus on the two kids. Melissa has made her hysterical way to Jules' limp form and is desperately seeking a pulse. We see her start to perform CPR as, behind her, the Duke savagely lays into his attackers. First Gunn and then Wesley are tossed aside, until the Duke stands triumphant once again._

_He looks surprised when the crossbow bolt appears in his chest. Our perspective changes; standing at the doorway, Gunn's discarded crossbow in his hand, blood still trickling from his mouth, is Angel._

_Sound returns as the usual FX noise for vamp disintegration is played. Angel falls to his knees, obviously in serious pain, coughing. A similarly beat-up Wesley nonetheless rushes to Jules._

WESLEY: Ambulance is on the way for them. Let me-

MELISSA: He's not breathing! I can't make him breathe!

_She stops the respiration for a moment, tears streaming down her face._

MELISSA: Please-please-make him breathe. Don't let him die. Please, _please_-

_Wesley resumes the CPR by way of answer. Gunn staggers over to Angel, haggard._

GUNN: You all right?

ANGEL: (_weakly_) He's not going to make it.

MELISSA: Don't say that!

_She rushes to Angel in panic, her terror and grief manifesting as rage against him._

MELISSA: You said you could _protect_ us! You said if we stayed here, we'd be _safe_! And now he's going to _die_-

_Angel gets to his feet and brushes past her as she sinks to her knees. He stands over the body of Jules and Wesley, still maintaining the respiration._

ANGEL: Wes, we need to get him down to the entrance.

_Wesley nods. Angel stoops and picks up the boy, his teeth clenching a little-the Duke's attack will take some time to recover from fully. As he stands up, we hear the distant wail of ambulance sirens, getting louder._

_Cut to reception. An ambulance crew bursts through the doors as Wesley, Gunn, Melissa and Angel, still carrying Jules, charge down the steps to meet them._

_Jules is packed into the back of an ambulance, Melissa and Gunn with him. Wesley and Angel help Cordelia to her feet._

WESLEY: What happened? What did you s-

_Cordelia takes one look at Angel, and floors him with a punch. Wesley is, to put it mildly, rather astonished by this. Cordelia stands over Angel, anger and betrayal on her face._

CORDELIA: What were you thinking?! Have you _lost your mind_?!

_Angel rubs his chin and makes no reply. Wesley restrains Cordelia, struggling._

WESLEY: Cordelia, it's not his fault! The Duke was too strong for him, nearly too strong for all of us, Jules-

ANGEL: (_rising_) I can't explain.

WESLEY: -Jules may pull through-

CORDELIA: You monster.

WESLEY: -he's still breathing…what on _earth_ is going on?

CORDELIA: Jules isn't going to pull through. He's gonna die.

_Wesley is shocked, and deeply saddened._

WESLEY: You saw it in the vision…

ANGEL: I had to do something.

CORDELIA: Is that what you call it? Something? This has changed everything!

WESLEY: Cordelia, aren't you being a little harsh? Jules' death is-

CORDELIA: …_temporary_.

_Wesley's mouth opens and closes. He's lost, deeply lost._

CORDELIA: Because, before sunrise, he's going to suddenly feel a whole lot less dead, isn't he, _boss_?

…_as she talks, we flashback to the transit of Jules' body from the room where he was fed upon to the reception of the hotel. As the group charge down a corridor, we zoom on Angel, who brings his hand up to his bleeding mouth, smears it in blood, and allows it to trickle into the gaping mouth of the boy._

_The flashback ends._

WESLEY: You're suggesting that Angel _sired_ him?! That's absurd!

ANGEL: She's right.

_The words shake Wesley. He releases his hold on Cordelia, who, while not resuming her earlier attacks on Angel, seems barely able to contain her rage and betrayal. Wesley stares at Angel for long, long moments. Then, with four or five purposeful strides, he walks over and picks up one of the crossbows used against the Duke by Melissa and Jules during the skirmish in reception. He aims the bow directly at Angel's heart._

WESLEY: Start talking. Now.

**END OF ACT I**


	2. Act II

**ACT II, SCENE I**

_The hospital morgue. An orderly's unconscious body is our first stop. We cut to the group, standing over the body of Jules. Angel is present, but stands at a distance, and Gunn is covering him with a stake at the ready. Melissa is pleading with Wesley._

MELISSA: You're saying he's gonna wake up? Not be dead? But you're gonna _kill _him before that happens?

WESLEY: Melissa, it's what must be done…

MELISSA: _No_!

_She stands over the corpse protectively. Cordelia licks her lips, and nods to Wesley._

CORDELIA: I know this is difficult...

MELISSA: Shut up. Just _shut up_.

CORDELIA: Jules is dead. Even if this…(_indicates corpse_)…gets up and knows your name, calls out to you, it's not him. Jules is gone. But unless we do what we have to do, some _thing _will be able to use his body, his name, his memories, to...to do things. To kill. To feed.

MELISSA: So he'll be a vampire, so what? He's a vampire (_points to Angel_).

WESLEY: Angel is a special case. He…he has a soul. He's unique amongst vampires in that regard. He's not controlled by the demon.

GUNN: (_dangerously_) At least, until tonight it did.

ANGEL: I told you, I can't explain wh-

GUNN: Yeah. You said. Instinctive action. Brought about by somethin' you saw in that vision of yours. One, you don't get visions. Two, makin' dead kids into bloodsucking demons ain't exactly chapter 1 of the hero textbook.

MELISSA: I won't let you kill him.

GUNN: Dammit Mel! I saw what they did to my sister with my own eyes, so don't you _ever _think you know what you're talking about with this, do you hear me?! It's a _whole _lot easier putting that through his heart now while he's cold than when she's looking at you the same way she-

_He breaks off. There is a moment of silence. Gunn inhales quickly, angry at himself for going so close to a complete breakdown. He looks at Angel with something approaching hatred._

GUNN: I trusted you with these kids. Even after all Darla crapola you pulled on us last year, stabbing us in the back, you were the first person I thought of when I thought to myself who do I want on their side?

_Angel makes no reply._

GUNN: Jules is dead. You didn't protect him, but that's not the worst. Now I have to kill him all over again, and doing it will mean _she _ain't never gonna trust me again. And if she don't trust me, then it's only a matter of time before someone gets to her, too. So she's as good as. You can't even tell me why you did it, either.

CORDELIA: Wait. Wait. Mel, step away from him. Wes, you too.

WESLEY: Cordelia, in a matter of moments-

CORDELIA: I know. So let her see him. We'll be here to protect her. Let her see what he's become.

MELISSA: (_hopefully_) You'll let him wake up?

GUNN: No! Stake him, now!

WESLEY: I think Cordelia might have a point. Gunn, you said yourself…trust is an issue here. He won't be able to conceal the demon, the urge to feed, not this soon. It'll make it easier.

GUNN: You had better be right-

_At that moment, Jules' corpse abruptly spasms, causing Melissa and Cordelia to shriek and Wesley to take a long step backward. Gunn is reluctant to watch, but, like everyone else, has a morbid fascination with the unfolding process. Jules' entire body shakes with the shock of being alive. His eyes are wild, he emits short gasps of pain and takes in whooping breaths (out of a force of habit, we assume). When the initial stages of high disorientation subside he focuses on the other people in the room, stopping immediately when he catches sight of Melissa._

JULES: Mel! Oh God! It's you!

_She bursts into tears of joy, and they attempt to come together, only for Mel's advance to be halted squarely by Cordelia and Wesley's firm grip._

CORDELIA: Let me go…

JULES: Leave her _aloooone_-

_He staggers backward in shock as his anger works as a catalyst to morph his human facial features into those of the vampire. Mel gasps in horror._

JULES: What's…what's happening to me…

CORDELIA: Need this?

_She holds up a compact mirror. We see from Jules' point of view; he looks into the glass and sees nothing but the wall behind him. Cordelia looks grim._

JULES: Where am I? This is a nightmare…it's gotta be…can't be real.

_He clutches at his stomach in pain, doubling over. Seeing this, Mel is torn between an urge to get to him and her new unease. Wesley has his crossbow aimed and ready._

ANGEL: It's the feeding urge. Never stronger than now. He'll attack.

WESLEY: (_to Melissa_) Right now he wouldn't think twice about feeding from you.

MELISSA: Jules, tell them they're wrong.

_Jules lashes out at a nearby wall with frustration. His fist smashes a good-sized hole in the concrete. Astonished, he looks at his hand and flexes it experimentally._

MELISSA: Jules!

_He looks at her, his demonic countenance remaining, his yellow eyes burning and smiles slowly. He takes a step forward. Wesley readies himself to pull the trigger-_

JULES: _Feed _from you? What the hell are you talking about?

_His features morph back into human again._

JULES: Did anyone else see me hit that wall? Was that not wicked-cool?

_An incredulous silence._

MELISSA: J-boy! I knew you wouldn't let me down!

JULES: (_grinning_) Are you telling me I'm a _vampire _or something now? And what, this is s'posed to make me all 'chow-down-on-my-tightest-_amigo'_, is it?

GUNN: What the hell is going on…

WESLEY: It's a trick! He's trying to gain our trust! Back!

_Jules looks at him quizzically. Wesley waves the crossbow in a menacing way. We cut from this to another perspective on the morgue, a few tables away._

_Another corpse covered with a sheet twitches…_

JULES: What are you gonna do, shoot me? What's going on?

CORDELIA: Oh, don't try to pull the 'I'm not an evil vampire' wool over our eyes, fang junior! If I had a dollar for every vampire who's pulled the Mr Innocent on me when he's surrounded, I'd…(_frustrated, she turns to Angel_)…you said he'd be nice and evil, and it'd make things simpler! Oh, this is turning out to be a _swell _night for you all round!

ANGEL: Actually I think it was you who-

CORDELIA: Don't even think about taking that attitude with me! If you hadn't-

WESLEY: Look out!

_Jules rushes him. Wesley squeezes off a shot, but it's not enough to slow Jules' approach. Gunn swings his bow around…and abruptly takes in several important facts. Firstly, Cordelia is in his direct line of fire. Secondly, there's someone new on the scene-another vampire to be exact, fangs bared, and totally naked, until very recently an ex-corpse like Jules._

_Thirdly, and most vitally, Jules' attack was not directed at Wesley at all, but rather at the new vampire, who had been about to sink his teeth into an unawares Cordelia. The would-be assailant is now pinned to the floor under Jules, who struggles to keep him contained._

JULES: (_panicked_) ah…a little help?!

_It is Angel who meets the call, grabbing a stake from the unresisting hand of Cordelia and driving it into the chest of the vampire on the floor, who disintegrates with appropriate speed. Angel extends a hand to Jules, who has been unceremoniously deposited on the now-ashen surface, and pulls him to his feet. Both turn around to face the astonished looks of the assembled group._

JULES: A _thank-you_ _for your heroics_ might be nice, guys.

ANGEL: (_amazed, a slight smile_) You've got a soul.

WESLEY: He's got a soul.

CORDELIA: He's got a soul.

GUNN: He's got a soul.

MELISSA: He's got an arrow through his leg.

_Jules looks down. He smiles faintly…_

JULES: Would ya look at that…

…_and passes out._

**ACT II, SCENE II**

_There is a full-scale conference going on at the reception. Angel is tending to Jules' leg, which is now partially covered in bandages. The arrow has been removed. Jules is still unconscious._

WESLEY: This is unprecedented. Absolutely unique, in centuries of vampire history.

_He produces a small, glass sphere from a velvet box. _

MELISSA: Oh, do you get an award?

CORDELIA: Oh please. This is (_she waves a hand airily) _obviously an ancient orb of some kind, used to test (_pause_) for the presence or absence of souls in a living being, right?

WESLEY: Actually, it's an orb, and it's used to test for the pres-

_He stops. Cordelia absorbs the evident fact that Wesley was fully expecting her to be wrong. She folds her arms and regards him with a 'go on…' look. Wesley coughs._

WESLEY: Yes, very good.

_He takes the orb and passes it within touching distance of Cordelia. The orb pulses hungrily with blue light from within, once._

WESLEY: Blue! Astonishing.

_Cordelia frowns, and waits for an explanation, but Wesley has already moved on. He tests Gunn and Angel-both provoke the orb into flashes, of different hues. Angel's "pulse" is blinding. He casts a slightly smug look at Gunn._

_Wesley comes to the reclining body of Jules. He inhales, and brings the orb closer…sure enough, right on cue, it pulses._

WESLEY: It's true. He does have a soul.

CORDELIA: All right, see-I'm confused here. I'm thinking it was kind of a rule-get bitten by big scary vampire, bit of icky, very symbolic blood-exchanging action, wake up all dead and fangy and eat-your-mother?

ANGEL: It's me. It has to be.

WESLEY: You've never sired another vampire since the curse.

ANGEL: (_troubled look_) Yeah...

_No-one notices the look._

GUNN: So any vampire with a soul who makes…_sires_…another vamp, they get a soul too?

WESLEY: It's impossible to say. (_off Gunn's look_) Before Angel, a vampire with a soul was a contradiction, an impossibility. In recorded history there has only been one instance, and he's with us in this room. (_mulls this over_) Actually, that's rather surprising…gypsies are steeped in tradition, you'd think they would have tried something similar at least once before, or since…

ANGEL: Maybe they did. But the odds of surviving that curse for very long are almost nil, Wes. It's designed to drive a vampire crazy with guilt, send them over the edge, cause them to commit suicide or get killed pretty quickly.

CORDELIA: So with you, it only kinda worked?

_Angel slams a fist into the reception desk._

ANGEL: Dammit!

CORDELIA: All right…all right…maybe you're not over the _edge_…

ANGEL: There _was _a way out for her. I was this close to doing it…but she'd accepted her fate, she said…

_The group are puzzled. Jules begins to rouse from his slumber; only Mel notices this. She makes her way over to him._

GUNN: Her?

WESLEY: Darla.

_Gunn and Cordelia groan in unison. Cordelia is relieved to see the awakening Jules._

ANGEL: …I could have prevented it all…but she was ready-

CORDELIA: (_very loudly_) Jules! Hey look, he's up…(_takes Angel by the arm_)…you, Mr Experience, you take him away and explain to him what's happened. Now.

JULES: God…I could eat a horse.

CORDELIA: Good! Excellent! Just keep thinking _horse_. As in _animal_. Horse good, people _bad_.

_Jules stares at her for a moment. He tilts his head to one side slightly, watching her. Cordelia grows ever more uneasy at this._

CORDELIA: What? What are you looking at?

JULES: Your neck looks _so _good…

_Cordelia leaps back. Jules bursts into a fit of laughter. Melissa slaps him good-naturedly on the shoulder, laughing too. She seems almost dazed with joy; bare hours after watching him expire slowly covered in tubes and peppered in apparatus, he is now making jokes, his broken arms have healed, and he seems little the worse for being shot through the leg with an arrow not so long beforehand._

_The rest are not so joyful. Gunn and Cordelia in particular seem uneasy. Wesley, ever the student of lore, has been taken in by the sheer fascination of what has happened. Angel, meanwhile, strikes us as being relieved firstly-this unexpected twist has served to extricate him from a very, very deep hole. _

_Following Cordelia's suggestion, he moves to the couch while Jules is lying and swoops for the boy, picking him up unceremoniously and depositing him on his feet._

ANGEL: You. Me. Talk. Now.

**ACT II, SCENE III**

_Angel's office. Angel sits behind his desk, motions for Jules to occupy the other seat-needlessly, since Jules has already flopped down, his legs extending to one side over the leather. Angel notes the confident gesture with a very slight eyebrow raise._

ANGEL: Do you want to start?

JULES: Well, I'm not too sure what this is supposed to be.

ANGEL: I've sired other vampires before. It's a pretty big thing. The sire is bound by ancient code to instruct his new brother-or sister-in the ways of our race.

_Jules takes this in, though he seems a little puzzled. He's not willing to show this._

JULES: You're gonna _teach _me how to be a vampire?

ANGEL: No. If I were to teach you that, I'd haul you outside and ask you to take your pick, so I could watch your killing style, supervise your first feed. Then maybe we'd track down some of your family, put to rest some of those buried hate issues. It's standard practice; go for the parents, the siblings, the children. It's what I did.

_Angel pauses. Jules seems taken aback. Angel leans forward and speaks very softly._

ANGEL: What? You're shocked? What did you think I was atoning for-Grand Theft Auto? Don't be under any illusions about the family you've joined. The only thing we value is death. The only thing we enjoy is fear. Our habitat is terror, we feed without mercy, we bring death and we bring pain. And we do it gladly. And we do it again, and again. For centuries.

_Jules is silent. He stares at Angel, at a loss for words._

ANGEL: You can call that lesson one. (_Pause_) Sit up straight.

_Jules adjusts his posture obediently, removing his legs from their draped position and turning his body to face Angel. We're not sure if Angel has captured his attention or if he doesn't dare do anything else…_

ANGEL: Right now Wesley is out there going through every book he has. There was only meant to be one vampire with a soul. Me. That was my thing. Earlier tonight, I had a vision. That's Cordelia's thing, not mine. I saw that I'd fail to save you. I knew you'd die. And…I can't explain how…earlier, when you were dying as I carried you, I knew I had to do what I did.

JULES: You lost me.

ANGEL: This isn't some accident, Jules. I don't know why, but congratulations, there's a place for you in the big cosmic plan. You were destined to become a vampire with a soul. You must have a part to play.

JULES: What are you saying? That I've been conscripted into some all-mighty eternal struggle? My entire life has led up to this, no matter what choices I made, I'd have ended up here, undead?

ANGEL: (_briskly_) Yeah, pretty much. So now you're going to have to become a crime-fighting vampire superhero, just like me. I'll start your training tomorrow, we can have you tackling some villains inside a week. I'll get you a garishly coloured sidekick uniform.

_Jules' mouth opens and closes in confusion. Angel seems nonchalant._

ANGEL: Well, good meeting.

_He makes to stand up._

JULES: Wait just one damn minute here! I've been in control of my life for nineteen years, I'm sure as hell not gonna bow to some cosmic plan! Sidekick my _ass_! I didn't ask for this!

ANGEL: You don't want it?

JULES: No!

ANGEL: Good. Then stay in the hotel, do _exactly _as I tell you, and I mean _exactly_, and you won't have to.

JULES: Huh? What…what about my destiny as a part of the eternal struggle?

ANGEL: (_waves a hand_) I'll cover for you.

JULES: Just stay here in this rathole for the rest of my undead life?

ANGEL: No. There's a way…(_he is reluctant to say more, but Jules is clearly in need of some sort of information_) you can go back.

JULES: To human?

ANGEL: To eight-track tapes. What do you think?

JULES: Yeah. Sure.

_He seems a little dazed, and he should do-Angel has just manipulated him expertly._

Act II, Scene IV

_Downtown L.A, one of the lower-rent neighbourhoods; so low-rent, in fact, that only rats who are down on their luck infest this place. An abandoned warehouse (where else?) is currently playing host to a gangland meeting. Two armed camps face each other, and there is a stark contrast between them. The first is made up of typical street heavies, dressed to the nines…well, elevens in casual togs and designer jewellery so frequent and thick that it looks like a small tornado has whipped a man through Fort Knox. At the head of the group is Canon, the leader. To mark himself apart from his underlings, he is dressed from head to toe in black. He's not exactly original._

_The other group is very out of place, given the surroundings. They've just emerged from two limousines which, if left unattended, would have a "not-stolen" shelf life comparable to the amount of time it would take a teenage boy to flick through a home shopping catalogue to the lingerie section. There are five of them, all male, all dressed in suits, all packing handgun shoulder bulges, and their leader is similarly adorned. His name is Devasson, and he works for-_

CANON: Wolfram & Hart.

DEVASSON: I see you've heard of us. Good-our poster campaign targeting dark alleys and sewage pipes wasn't a total waste.

_Canon's group growl at this jibe. If it were possible, you'd hear fingers scraping across holstered, barely concealed gunbarrels._

CANON: You got a lot of nerve, coming to a place like this. I like that. It-it shows…what's the word I'm looking for here, college boy?

DEVASSON: Stupidity?

_Canon clicks his fingers._

CANON: _Le mot juste._

_If Devasson is surprised by this surprising touch of education, he conceals it behind a broad and confident smile. Canon merely responds with a look which has a faint touch of rebuke-don't judge me again, he's saying._

DEVASSON: Nonsense my friend. We could have a little (_waves hand_) bullet exchange-and-mart here, sure, but what would it gain us? As I see it, and I'm not wrong, you have your "gang" and your "turf" and I have mine.

CANON: Except I don't see many people starving to death on your turf.

DEVASSON: And I don't sell them drugs when what they need is food.

_They regard each other._

DEVASSON: Aren't you going to say _touché?_

CANON: You're the one who came here. So the way I see it, I'm going to listen to what you and your suits have to say, and then I'm going to decide whether to just say _what the hell _and put a bullet through your head.

_The moment of threatening silence is rather spoiled by a few of Canon's men beginning to hum the tune from the song in question. Canon moves his head very slightly. The humming stops instantly. _

DEVASSON: I'll make this a power lunch meeting, shall I, and get to the point. Wolfram & Hart like to keep up-to-date with events around the city, one might say especially in places like this. We know that you've had certain difficulties recently when an opportunity to increase your finances slipped through your fingers.

CANON: (_a little uneasy_) You knew about that?

_Devasson smiles broadly, displaying a row of perfect white teeth._

DEVASSON: Maybe you're not as familiar with our firm as you thought, Mr Canon. But that's immaterial-you planned to extort money from a wealthy couple using two young people who would pose as their son and daughter, lost from birth. It was a con trick. Except that it…kind of…(_he smiles_)…went belly-up, didn't it?

CANON: All right, so you know. Don't bore me, talk.

DEVASSON: We happen to know where the two rascals in question are holding up. As…well, as fate would have it, I suppose, for lack of a better term, they're being protected by someone of great interest to us.

CANON: Kiss his ass _au revoir_. I don't care if Saddam Hussein is their godfather and they got a private army each for Christmas, I need to talk to those kids. (_he steps forward and fairly spits the next words_) At. Great. Length.

Devasson grimaces.

DEVASSON: _Merde-_we have a conflict of interests, Mr Canon. You're not exactly the most subtle of operators, and Wolfram & Hart would not look kindly upon any collateral damage you may cause.

CANON: (_shrugs_) I'll find those two little bastards, and I don't care who's in the way. Threats don't bother me. Not from you, or your bunch of crooked lawyers, or your hired muscle.

DEVASSON: (_softly now_)It seems you don't know us at all, Mr Canon.

_As Canon is about to reply, the limousine doors open. Canon's men step back-until this point they had enjoyed a slight advantage. Not any more. That isn't the reason they step back, though. Each and every new participant in the standoff who emerges from the vehicles is a seven-foot tall warrior demon, red-eyed and blue-skinned, growling with what sounds awfully like hunger. They flank Devasson to his left and right. He smiles benignly, enjoying the moment._

CANON: So it's true about all the supernatural crap. I've ran into a few vamps in my time, employed the odd scaly assassin…I never knew they ran that big.

DEVASSON: You should see them when they're past the infant stage.

_Canon's eyes bulge. His men are growing more and more restless, and noisily so._

CANON: You stopped talking. Keep talking. I'm listening here.

DEVASSON: Very well. Wolfram & Hart are never willing to pass up on a happy coincidence. We will keep a close eye on your brats on your behalf. When the time is right, and it may well be soon, we will of course hand them over to you to do with as you wish, as many times as you wish, it's your business. In return, you are not to interfere with our business in any way.

CANON: And just, exactly, what is your business?

_Devasson leans back on the bonnet of his limo. He grins again._

DEVASSON: His name is Angel…

Act II, Scene V

_A glass of blood. We pull back from it to see Jules' face, inches from the glass. He looks extremely ill. Angel stands behind him._

ANGEL: Not hungry?

JULES: Starving. Why can't I just eat regular food, for God's sake?

ANGEL: Regular food won't sustain you. If you don't drink, and drink regularly, your skin will start to shed.

JULES: Is that all? I'll moisturise.

_Wesley appears. He takes in what's going on._

ANGEL: I mean 'shed' as in 'drop off'. At least being a vampire means you _look _human. Trying to pass for normal is a little more difficult when you're a living skeleton. Besides, the hunger would drive you insane. Wes, we need to talk.

WESLEY: I thought as much. You're not going to leave him, are you?

JULES: Aren't I ever gonna get some trust going around here?

WESLEY: (_annoyed_) What I _meant _was that this must be a difficult time for you. It would help to have a supportive face around.

_Jules is abashed. Before he can apologise verbally Melissa enters the room too, having obviously been listening outside._

MELISSA: I'll stay with him. I think I know him pretty well… (_she winks, Jules grins_)

ANGEL: (_in best 'rebuking parent' tone_) I want to see that blood gone by the time I come back.

_With a nod to Wesley, they exist. Melissa picks up the glass and peers into its contents with disgust, but a fair bit of morbid fascination too._

MELISSA: Yummy.

_Jules sits down heavily. She flops down beside him, the glass resting in her hand still._

JULES: This is nuts, Mel. I'm not sure I can handle all this.

MELISSA: Are you crazy? Jules, you were _dead_. Stone cold without the Steve.

_Jules is unsettled, unsurprisingly. He cannot bring himself to look straight at her._

JULES: I've been thinking about that a lot, too.

MELISSA: Did you see anything? Anyone? Come on Jules…not one person in a _million _goes through what happened to you. Fill me in!

JULES: I didn't see anything. No tunnels. No bright light. Not even Charlton Heston.

MELISSA: Oh…well…maybe that's because you were, y'know, only temporary dead, kinda. Waiting to come back.

JULES: Angel says it's all some destiny crap. I was meant to come back. He's working on a way to make me human again. Can't come soon enough (_he shivers_).

_Melissa is silent. Jules notices this. She stands up and faces him, in deep thought._

MELISSA: Punch the wall, Jules. And don't ask me why…ssh…just do it.

JULES: Wh-

MELISSA: Punch the damn wall!

_Jules' fist lashes out. Plaster and dust fly up as a large chunk of concrete is pulverised beneath his hand. He grunts with effort to remove his hand from the hole he's just created._

JULES: Damn, _damn_…I hope no-one heard that…

_Melissa steps forward to peer into the hole. She's clearly very excited._

MELISSA: If you'd had that power when we were on the streets…

JULES: Yeah. The bullets-can't-kill-you thing would have made me sleep easier nights too. If I slept nights now, that is.

MELISSA: So let me get this. You're invulnerable to bullets, you've got super strength, you don't need air or food, you're-

JULES: Stop.

MELISSA: What?

JULES: I know you, Mel. Don't do this. Don't _think _this.

MELISSA: How can I _not _think this? All our lives we've been running scared from one group of bastards or another, haven't we? Now you don't need to run from anyone, or anything.

JULES: (_bitterly_) Yeah, except daylight.

MELISSA: Come on, Jules. You know as well as I do, there are two types of people in LA-those who come out at night, and those who don't. Besides…I always thought that night was more interesting than day, anyway. The dark's got more layers.

JULES: I'm not human.

MELISSA: You've got a soul. See me splitting hairs? Look how everyone treats Angel, and he used to be a maniac, from what I hear. Now he's a hero. You're in the same position he's in.

JULES: What? You saying I could do what Angel says I was 'destined' to do and become this force for good?

MELISSA: Like hell-leave that to the heroes. I'm saying you've got the power to actually get yourself a good shot at a decent life, and you're a damn fool if you let Angel take it away from you before you at least explore it.

_Seeing Jules is agonising, Mel presses home the point with all the manipulative skill Angel showed bare moments earlier._

MELISSA: Jules, I'm saying this because I care for you. Give yourself a shot-you've come back from the dead with this amazing gift, these great powers…it'd be (_she laughs slightly_) well, a sin, to pass up this opportunity, right?

JULES: What about you?

_Melissa grins slowly. She lowers her head to stare at the glass of blood. Jules follows her gaze, a questioning expression on his face._

MELISSA: I'll be right beside you…

_With that, she drinks a long gulp. Jules calls out in shock and alarm, but Melissa lowers the glass and raises her hand, indicating she's all right. Her mouth is red. She seems more than faintly nauseous, but still with that dangerous edge of excitement._

MELISSA: …all the way.

_She proffers him the glass. Jules takes it from her numbly. He brings it to his lips, hesitates, takes a deep breath, and begins to drink, his eyes tightly shut. After one gulp, he tips the glass back, halting the flow. His eyes open, and his tongue extends from his mouth, tasting the blood on his chin. Still silent, he tilts the glass forward again, draining the remaining blood greedily, hungrily._

_We see Melissa's smile, broad, framed from her own crimson lips…_

**Act II, Scene VI**

_Wesley and Angel are having their meeting, in Wesley's room._

WESLEY: My God. And you've never told anyone?

ANGEL: Not until now. It was too painful a memory.

WESLEY: I can imagine…but during this…day that never was…you were fully…?

ANGEL: Human. Yes. Uncursed, and human. Walk in sunlight, sense of taste, reflection, heartbeat.

WESLEY: The blood of a Mohra demon. No wonder the species is rare.

ANGEL: That's what I figured. Vampires must have been trying to make them extinct for millennia now.

_Wesley, typically, has produced four or five large volumes seemingly from mid-air. He begins flicking frantically through the first._

WESLEY: They've all but accomplished that goal, I'm afraid. Although...there _were_ reports of pockets of Mohra activity deep in the Appalachians around a year ago.

ANGEL: Get on it, Wes. I don't want Jules to be a vampire any longer than he has to.

WESLEY: I'm sure he feels the same way.

ANGEL: Yeah. _Now_ he does...

**Act II, Scene VII**

_Outside the Karaoke Bar. The entire gang (this includes Jules and Mel) get out of Angel's car and approach the entrance. For the first time, we see that, just like any other establishment, the bar has bouncers. Presumably in an attempt not to attract attention, they're human. They're also enormous._

WESLEY: I'm a little uncomfortable bringing these two into this place.

MELISSA: (bored) Scared it'll have a bad influence on us, I suppose?

CORDELIA: Wow-did you _ever _get that the wrong way around.

_Cordelia flashes an impudent smile at Melissa. The group reaches the doors. Angel makes to go through, but the bouncers close ranks abruptly, and unexpectedly._

ANGEL: Problem?

BOUNCER #1: No kids. Sorry.

GUNN: See, I'm confused here. Isn't this the place where if you ask for a Bloody Mary, you gotta specify the type of blood?

BOUNCER #2: We cater to a range of clientele, yes.

BOUNCER #1: Overage clientele.

BOUNCER #2: Can't have kids drinking in here.

BOUNCER #1: Might give the place a bad rep.

BOUNCER #2: Might attract the wrong crowd.

_They lapse into silence. The group digests this. There's really nothing all that unusual about the behaviour of the two doormen; it's simply the way of their ilk worldwide, whether guarding demonic establishments or not. It comes from absolute, unshakable faith that they are about as likely to be bested in physical confrontation as a small moon._

GUNN: The wrong _what_?!

JULES: Guys, guys, relax.

_He steps forward, arms outstretched to quell the tension, and grins at the doormen, who leer back casually._

JULES: Obviously these gentlemen need to see my I.D.

_The doormen exchange glances. By the time this is completed and they resume leering at Jules, he's now sporting full vampire face. He smiles in a vaguely threatening way. We cut to inside the bar. The group move to an empty table beside the stage where a complement of swamp demons are belting out "Wild Thing". Jules and Melissa must be prodded along forcefully as they're so fascinated by the canvas of weird that they've entered into-demons of all shapes and sizes surround them, but neither seems afraid. Angel orders at the bar, then spots the Host drifting aimlessly and genially through his citizens as usual, and waves him over._

HOST: Well! I didn't know it was coupon day! And who might these little scamps be!

_Jules and Melissa flash him their Grade A hostile simmering look, the kind that will usually turn well-meaning adults into piles of recalcitrant ash. As this is the Host, though, it's ineffective._

HOST: Ouch-so much angst coming out of these two that it's more like _Dawson's Ocean _than _Creek _over here, and it doesn't take an empath to sense that, I can tell ya. We need to talk, big fella-unless you came here to show off your family album-can you imagine that? (_he hits Angel playfully on the shoulder_) I think I hear the brooding of little Angels over there…come on.

_They walk away, leaving behind two incredulous teenagers._

JULES: Was he real?

CORDELIA: (_snorts_) Wait til you hear him do _Moulin Rouge_.

_A waiter sets down the round of drinks. Melissa stares at her lemonade with disgust. Beside Jules is set a large glass of blood, topped off with a paper umbrella. Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia scrutinise him, without wanting to make it seem obvious that they're doing so. Jules notices nonetheless._

JULES: Oh…darn…another glass of blood. (_hollowly_) Hate the stuff.

_With mock reluctance, he raises the glass and takes a sip. His eyes bulge, and he takes three long gulps before being kicked soundly under the table by Melissa. Looking guilty, he sets the glass down._

MELISSA: So brave.

JULES: (_shaking his head, pained_) Yes. It's hell..

_The three adults exchange sceptical looks._

GUNN: Yeah, well, just go easy on the stuff, kid. Not only is it disgusting, it's twenty bucks a glass.

_We cut to the Host and Angel._

ANGEL: I need to know why the Powers That Be _wanted _me to sire him. I have to know what plans they had for him, what they wanted him to do.

HOST: Uh huh. Why?

ANGEL: I knew you were gonna ask that. Why do you think?

HOST: So you can perform whatever function he was designed for himself, right?

ANGEL: He's a kid. I'm a champion. I'm the one who's job it is to fight the good fight. He's an innocent in all of this-I don't care what the Powers wanted him to do as a vampire with a soul, he's not doing it.

HOST: This big smog-filled hole isn't big enough for the both of ya, is that it?

ANGEL: (_annoyed_) No.

HOST: You're not unique anymore, ya big lug. It's the way of the world. At one time it was one girl in every generation; and by that I'm _not _referring to your dating record-

ANGEL: He doesn't have anything to atone for.

HOST: He's no angel, Angel.

ANGEL: I know. That's what I'm afraid of.

HOST: Ahhhh. _Now _we're getting somewhere. Go on…

_Angel struggles to form the words, but it's clear that these thoughts have been nibbling at him for some time. He casts a furtive glance over at the table, where Jules and Melissa seem enthralled by their surroundings._

ANGEL: He has the power to do a lot of damage. Having a soul doesn't mean you have to use it-if he's got nothing to atone for, no guilt, then what's to stop him using what he has for his own gain?

HOST: You.

ANGEL: What?

HOST: Honestly-sometimes I think that eating something which congeals and crusts over pretty quickly and nothing else has a bad effect on you vamps. Has it _really _not occurred to you that the best way to make sure Junior over there doesn't go the way of the no-soul brigade is to pass on the things you've learned as a champion to him?

_Angel is silent._

HOST: Call me Mr Lip-Synch in the ways of vampire lore here, but isn't that what a sire does? Passes on his skills to those he bestows with his blood?

ANGEL: This is different-

HOST: Yes, but so are you. Now you might get this blood of a Mohra demon-and incidentally, can you throw a little of that stuff my way, makes for some _killer _shooters-but probably not for a while. You took these kids in to protect them. Well, do more than that. Teach them.

ANGEL: Who am I to teach them?

HOST: Maybe you'll find out along the way.

Angel absorbs this. The Host recognises that a neutral silence on the idea is about the best he's going to get. He pats Angel on the shoulder and flashes him one of his least dazzling, but most sincere, smiles.

_Angel continues to stand there, looking a little awkward. The Host's smile dies slowly._

HOST: (_sighs_) You're gonna sing aren't you.

**Act II, Scene VIII**

_The Karaoke Bar, later that night. Two seven-foot scaly creatures warble the final bars of 'Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now' and leave the stage locked in a passionate embrace. Jules and Melissa are in fits of laughter, and seem to be having a great time. Jules wipes his mouth with his sleeve. The Host leaps onto stage and does his usual compere routine._

HOST: Give it up for the underworld's answer to Ike and Tina-except without _quite _as much mindless violence-Zikklar and his lovely mate Grofab, everyone. Whew! This is turning out to be one of those nights-I can feel it in my horns.

_He scans the audience, and his gaze alights on the Angel party._

HOST: How about a volunteer? Come on, people-grab a mike or take a hike…

_Melissa grins over at Jules. He gives her a 'what, me?' look. Cordelia slaps him encouragingly on the shoulder and winks at him. He grins at her, wiping the smile from Melissa's face (unnoticed), and nervously takes the stage. As he talks to the Host, we stay with the remainder of the assembled group at the table._

MELISSA: He's always wanted to do this. Have any of you ever-?

_Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia and Angel all look at each other for a long, long moment._

ALL: No.

MUSIC: '_Mr Writer'_, The Stereophonics

JULES: (_sings_) You line 'em up. forgot your shoes / Your own name's on your wall, and you should have known / You fly around in planes that bring you down…

_Nervous, a little halting at first, he gains confidence when the crowd remain respectfully silent, and his performance improves. He's actually quite good, and when the song hits its rapid series of crescendos, he handles it well. Conversation dies across the bar as we move from table to table, demons soulfully nodding their heads to the mournful beat, swaying to the melodies, their eyes closing. Back at Angel's table, it is equally silent. Melissa is spellbound by the performance, her hand up at her mouth, her head swaying only slightly._

MELISSA: So tone-deafness isn't a part of the whole 'vampire' deal!

CORDELIA: (_looking idly at Angel_) News to us, too.

_Our first sight of the Host, then, is a total shock. He's horrified about something. When Jules finishes his performance, however, he manages to snap out of this frozen terror and do his routine all over again. Before he can speak at the stage, however, Jules accepts the cheers from the audience, and laughs at the whoops and hollers of admiration from Melissa._

HOST: Worth every whoop! All right, we'll take a break from performers for a while, all cocktails half price at the bar until the next police siren goes pas-

_There is a stampede to the bar which drowns out his next words. His patrons are not fools-this is Los Angeles after all. He leaps lightly from the stage to stand by Jules, who's just retaken his seat and is flushed with exhilaration._

HOST: Talk about baring your soul-that was just about indecent exposure young man.

JULES: Huh?

WESLEY: The Host can pick up psychic messages from anyone who's singing.

MELISSA: What happens if you want to read someone who's totally tone deaf?

_All eyes swivel in one direction._

ANGEL: What?

_Diplomatic coughs all round._

ANGEL: (_sulkily_) They don't have to be singing _well_. Just singing. OK?

JULES: What'd you get from me?

_We see the Host is struggling with some internal dilemma. Clearly he saw something pretty major, but, as on previous occasions, sometimes the best thing to do is not to be totally honest right away with messages about destiny._

HOST: Nothing about a recording contract-travesty or what, I ask you. You've got a _lot _of big decisions coming up, young man. How you deal with them, well that's up to you and you alone. I'll tell ya this, though, smoky tones-make the right choice.

WESLEY: That's a little ambiguous…

JULES: It's total bull!

HOST: Hold up, little fella. Turn that Krakatoa into Old Faithful. Just remember that I didn't say make the _easy _choice. I said make the _right _choice.

JULES: Or else…?

HOST: (_shrugs_) Who knows! That's what makes this destiny business fun, babe.

_He looks over at the bar, and winces._

HOST: Me and my big yap. (_shouts_) Anyone caught drinking the barstaff will be asked to leave the premises!

**Act II, Scene IX**

_After the relative calm of the last couple of scenes, the opening to this should come as an abrupt shock-we're plunged into a full-scale battle. As we duck and dive around the bodies desperately fighting for supremacy, little clues are dropped; a stake is flashed into view for a moment, a vampire crumbles to dust, we see a man screaming as his lifeblood is drained by a grinning vamp. It is pretty close to utter chaos._

_The locale appears to be very much back in downtown LA territory, Gunn central in other words. After a few brief moments of skirmish, a half-circle of vampires advance slowly on a rapidly shrinking group of humans, backing against a chainlink fence with no obvious escape routes. The man at the head of the retreating humans sports an eyepatch. His name is Vincent. He gets called Vince, for reasons of ancient street lore…there's always a Vince._

VINCE: Steady!

_There's always a Vince. And he's always insane. This one looks as if he's straightened his last jacket, though. The humans are outnumbered two to one, though each man (and quite a few women) look as if they're more than willing to do some damage on their way out. Vince makes an effective leader-madder than a bouncy castle on the Moon, but the first into battle and the last to retreat._

_The first vamp makes a leap…and disintegrates in mid-air, caught through the chest by one hell of a harpoon shot. Both groups, humans and vamps, stop to gape back. New on the scene are two vanloads of heavies, armed to the teeth with stakes and, strangely, handguns. One thing is apparent, though-they're human._

VINCE: Reinforcements! Chaaaaaaaaaaaargeaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!

_His mad headlong rush into the vampires, by now with their backs turned, is enough to galvanise his troops into following. Panicked, the vamps beat a retreat, but only into the waiting ranks of the newcomers._

_Battle begins anew._

_Whoever these arrivals are, they're clearly a force to be reckoned with, as one vampire after another finds out; expert martial arts training is coupled with a fearsome skill with a small piece of wood. One vamp manages to disarm his opponent, sending his stake to the ground. The human draws his small handgun, eliciting a bemused frown from the vamp but little else._

_There is a gunshot, and an odd report. The vamp screams in agony, clawing at his face, which is somehow covered in liquid, a substance which is eating into the vampire's skin even as the wretched creature claws desperately at its own features. After another few seconds of convulsions it is put out of its suffering by a stake brought squarely to the heart._

_We see the gun in action again, pumping its strange ammunition into the back of a fleeing vampire, who drops to the surface in fits of acute distress. Vince is only too happy to pounce upon its back and drive a stake through it. When he gets up and surveys the one-sided devastation, he is awed._

VINCE: Who the hell are you people?!

_The van door slides back. Stepping out from its interior safety now that the danger is well and truly over, Canon adjusts his shades and ambles over to Vince, several of his goons in tow. Vince recognises him; some of his pleasure ebbs a little, to be replaced by, in not quite equal measure, respect, fear, and disgust._

CANON: Vincent.

_The disgust factor ups a little, visibly._

VINCE: What are you doing here?

CANON: Nice.

VINCE: Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your little Calvary show. Things have been getting rough round these parts lately-the damn vamps-

CANON: It's the vamps I'm here to talk to you about.

VINCE: Uh huh. No offence, but I always kinda thought you and your people had a 'don't suck us, we don't stake you' policy in respect to 'em.

CANON: Things have changed. I'm offering my resources to you.

_Vince draws in a long breath. He may be a little unstable, but he's a long way from stupid. A gangland boss was unlikely to offer his private army for good deeds unless-_

VINCE: I _ain't _about to become one of your dealers, I'll tell you that right now.

CANON: No need for that. Just tired of seeing my own species become food-is that so hard to believe?

_Vince lets his eyebrows reply._

CANON: (_smiles thinly_) Look at it like this, Vince my boy - how many vamps buy drugs?

_Clearly this is a much more acceptable reason. Vince seems caught-he can hardly keep from drooling when he imagines taking on the local vampires kitted out with this army, but Canon is about as trustworthy as a dotcom company._

VINCE: I need to bring in some more people on this. I ain't the greatest planner the world has ever seen.

CANON: Yeah, I think I caught your all tactical know-how when you shouted _charge_…call anyone you like. Call the best. My men are at your disposal, simply drop me the nod and the _rendez-vous _point and you can give them their instructions.

VINCE: Do we get some of those guns?

CANON: Ah. You noticed, huh.

_He holds out a hand and one is immediately placed there by a nearby lackey. Canon takes the few steps over to Vince and bids him to take a closer look, which, naturally, Vince is only too eager to._

_Canon flips open the barrel to reveal the ammunition, one of which he extracts._

CANON: This is a superdense plastic ball filled with consecrated water. A holy water bullet. Designed to resist the heat of firing, and burst open under the skin of your average vampire, causing them instant agony.

_He snaps the barrel closed again and presents the gun to a totally silenced Vince, who cradles it protectively, as if it were a newborn._

CANON: Best of all, an impact to you or me causes us nothing more than a moderate bruising-like a paintball hit. To a vampire, of course, it's pure, 100 pain. It won't kill them, and they _will _heal, but it'll take them out of the fight. Now I don't have to tell you, these things were _not _cheap. Don't screw around with them, Vince.

VINCE: I'll be gentle.

_Canon nods to his goons, who file back into their vans with military speed and precision, watched with fear and awe by Vincent and his cronies. He smiles._

CANON: Go find Gunn. Get him to pick the biggest, juiciest vampire nest in the area, get as many people as he can, and then give me a call. It's time for the humans to take back this town. Starting now.

_Vince and his gang burst into a ragged cheer, waving their stakes in the air. We close on Canon as he scrambles into his van, breaking out into a smile you could shave with…_

**Act II, Scene X**

_A bright morning in Anne's shelter. She emerges from her office with Wesley and Cordelia. There's an easy air of friendship present, though the tone and the subject matter of the conversation are serious. We catch brief glimpses of the children and young people, most of whom are lazing around idly._

ANNE: That's a pretty tall order, even for her.

WESLEY: I think Virginia can do it. She still has the contacts.

CORDELIA: Wes-I thought it was her father who had the contacts. You know, the father she's not talking to on account of the way he tried to have her sacrificed at an altar to a dark God for his own gain…

ANNE: That's the story of _so _many broken homes these days.

WESLEY: Yes, well, many of those in her father's old business were horrified. Don't forget, he had many rivals. They're only too happy to help Virginia out with a little requisitioning. By happy coincidence, there was a magical supplies foraging expedition scheduled to go out to the Appalachians.

CORDELIA: He means party as in _bunch of men willing to risk neck and spine to bring back demon goo worth heap big reward_.

WESLEY: Yes, well let's just hope that any of them return this time. I had quite a job putting Angel off the idea of joining them-how he thought he was going to cross mountains looking to hunt day-dwelling demons while travelling only at night, I've no idea.

ANNE: How's Melissa holding up during all this?

_Cordelia and Wesley glance at each other._

WESLEY: Rather too well.

CORDELIA: She's like a moth to a flame, you mean. And I'm _sure _she's skimming some of my office cosmetics.

WESLEY: Down to your last drawerful?

_Recognising the signs, Anne steps quickly between them with an amused smile, which reminds us that behind that often-serious exterior is a very young and pretty girl._

ANNE: Keep an eye on them. And thanks for keeping me in, you two. I appreciate it.

_All three exchange their goodbyes. Wesley exits, and just as Cordelia makes to pass through the doors, Devasson approaches from the opposite end. He graciously steps back and opens the door to allow her passage with a broad sweep of his arm, bowing slightly and flashing that whitening-toothpaste grin._

CORDELIA: (_pleased_) Thank you…

DEVASSON: My dear. Don't think of mentioning it.

_His grin broadens and he steps inside. Cordelia casts a glance back at him, and we see Wesley standing a little way away, his arms folded impatiently. Cordelia sighs in a long-suffering way and starts toward him._

_Inside, Devasson knocks the door to Anne's office. She looks up from some paperwork and sighs a little._

ANNE: Come in, please.

_Devasson enters. He presents himself with effortless style, and though Anne is not as taken as Cordelia was, she cannot help but be slightly disarmed by his genial bearing. He proffers his hand and shakes hers gently, smiling._

DEVASSON: _Such _an honour to meet you in person. You must think me a little odd, bursting in here without announcing my attentions to visit first-it's just my way I'm afraid, half borne out of a busy schedule and half because I want to see people in their full flow of work…

_He laughs at that point, obviously seeing her confused expression._

DEVASSON: Now I've really lost the image battle. Oh well…nothing left but to tell you that my name is Frederic Devasson, and I work with a group of people called the Junior Uplift Charitable Association. We're a charity.

ANNE: …hello…

DEVASSON: She speaks, I've finally given her a chance to! (_laughs_) I've read up so much on what you've done here, for these children, I can't help but babble a little, and besides, you're…ah…rather different in person than one imagines a youthcare worker to appear.

_Anne eventually decides this to be a compliment. One corner of her mouth tugs up, but she still seems a little unsure of this talkative newcomer._

ANNE: What do you want from us, Mr Devasson?

_Devasson smiles, in much the same way-in fact, in a more less identical way-to the way Canon did at the end of the previous Act…_

**Act II, Scene XI**

_Angel's training basement in the hotel. It seems to be kitted out for war; targets hang from the ceiling, dummies abound. Angel and Jules stand in the middle of all this equipment. The latter is fairly quivering with excitement. Angel, typically, is not._

ANGEL: Your body clock is going to have to adjust-don't forget that. Try not to stay up much past five in the morning, the sun can come up pretty quick. Sleep until the early afternoon-try to aim for about two, maybe three o'clock. Of course during winter-

JULES: Angel?

ANGEL: -you can gain an extra…yes?

_Jules looks meaningfully downward. Angel follows his gaze down to the huge silver axe he's holding across both arms._

JULES: You're standing there with a weapon most people wouldn't even be able to _lift_, in a room the _A-Team_ would have thought was over the top, and you're lecturing me about how much _sleep_ I should aim for?

ANGEL: It's important.

JULES: In case you've forgotten, I can't go _out _during the day. What am I going to do, take up bridge? I'll sleep. Now show me how to fight.

ANGEL: You don't want to know how to fight.

_Jules makes to reply, then catches himself._

JULES: Oh, don't start this.

ANGEL: Excuse me?

JULES: You're gonna do your Yoda bit now, aren't you.

_Angel hefts the axe and stares at Jules impassively._

ANGEL: Do I _look _like Yoda to you?

JULES: (_smiling_) That doesn't matter. Anyone doing this mystical training thing always has to get all mysterious. Stay on the path…anger leads to fear…be the fly, grasshopper…c'mon, I've seen it a million times. I bet you were about to say _you don't want to know how to fight, you want to know how to hurt people_. Give me a break, Angel. Cut the crap and teach me the moves.

ANGEL: Moves?

JULES: Yeah, mo-_akkkkkk_…

_Without seeming to pass through the intervening space, Angel is suddenly behind him, and has the shaft of the axe tightly drawn around his throat. Though vampires don't require air, they still would rather not have their throats crushed by invading metal._

ANGEL: How about this one? Huh?

_He releases Jules by pushing him forward, sending him sprawling to the floor in a heap. We hear an angry grunt metamorphose into a characteristic vampire snarl, and when Jules turns to glare at Angel his face has changed into full vampire mode._

ANGEL: What I was gonna say was that you don't want to know how to fight, you want to know how to _survive_. And you'd better start learning.

_He throws Jules a second axe from the table. Jules takes it from the air as he gets up, still panting with anger, but now with a healthy dose of apprehension too._

ANGEL: Lesson one-

_He comes at Jules with the axe, a long sweep. Jules brings his own axe to meet the blow and they collide in the air. Almost as soon as they have, Angel steps back and feints to the side before coming in from the blind left, completely throwing Jules off, and making it easy for Angel to bring the axe's handle into his opponents ribs. Such is the force of the blow that Jules is lifted off his feet and into the wall, crashing to the ground, his axe a few feet away._

JULES: (_panicked, in great pain_) What…what the hell are you doing!

ANGEL: I dunno. Being all mysterious?

_Jules gets to his feet, backing against the wall as Angel approaches._

JULES: You could have killed me!

ANGEL: No.

_Something about the way he says it triggers a realisation in Jules' mind. He gingerly touches his ribs, and is astonished to find he can push and prod without any sort of pain backlash. He flexes himself._

ANGEL: You have to readjust. Your sleep. Your diet. And what you think you can do. You're stronger, faster, fitter, and you heal in a moment. But you have to know that to be able to use it.

_He allows this a moment to sink in, then bends down and picks up Jules' discarded weapon and throws it to him. Jules catches it. His vampire face is gone; now we see his human features set in a mask of concentration, determination. He starts to look older than his seventeen years._

_Angel raises his axe and points the blade at Jules. He beckons with his spare hand._

ANGEL: Show me.

_Jules pushes out from the wall, blade flashing. The two come together in a whirl of steel and flesh. We don't stay on the fight, but the scene ends with a series of still images from the ensuing battle. Jules has begun his combat training in earnest, and he appears to be doing quite well._

**Act II, Scene XII**

_Same setting, presumably a little later. Jules is squatting on the floor, Angel a few feet away. The two men are breathing heavily, but there is a sense of muted exhilaration about both-Jules, though almost too tired to move, grins lopsidedly over at Angel, who nods and returns the smile._

JULES: (_catching his breath still_) Is…is…is this your typical work…out?

ANGEL: I'm taking it easy.

_Jules laughs this off._

JULES: Yeah, I get it…scare the rookie with the horror stories, right…

ANGEL: Nope. I'm taking it easy.

_Jules' smile dies._

JULES: …great. I thought vampires more or less stayed in shape no matter what?

ANGEL: Partly true, yeah, but I don't work out for the physical sharpness. You need the heat of battle to stay focussed, or you pay the price out there when it matters.

JULES: Besides which, you enjoy it.

_Angel reacts as if stung. He scrutinises an unrepentant Jules, considers denying it outright, and eventually concedes defeat, though he's clearly not happy to do so._

JULES: You look as if you're ashamed to admit it. Why?

_Angel makes no reply._

JULES: Man, you're a champion. A _hero_. A warrior. Are you supposed to go about LA and come across demons snacking down on the innocent and look for a diplomatic solution? You're out there on the front line, fighting the good fight. The good fight. (_shrugs_) So what's wrong with relishing it a little?

ANGEL: Sometimes I think I could never be anything else.

JULES: Well, there are a lot of worse things you could be stuck as. You could be a street kid with no future and a price on his head, just to pick a random example.

_They regard each other for a moment. Angel grunts and smiles ruefully._

ANGEL: Here I thought _I_ was supposed to be Yoda…?

_He gets up and wanders across the room. Jules is reluctant to follow him, preferring to remain in his semi-resting position, still in need of a breather (…figuratively speaking, of course). We stay with Jules and hear Angel's voice._

ANGEL: You've learned to start to let go of your expectations of a human body. That'll let you access your strengths as a vampire. What you did this morning was hard work, but there's no easy ride beyond that-now you have to keep practising, improve your technique, work on your rhythm.

JULES: Right…

ANGEL: You're only halfway there in terms of adjustment. You've learned to come to terms with your advantages. You have to learn your weaknesses. Catch!

_Jules brings up his hands instinctively to block the trajectory of an object that was sailing straight for his head. He manages to catch it…_

JULES: AAAAAAAAAAargh!

…_and drops it almost immediately. We see a large and pretty ornate crucifix drop to the ground, still smoking as it settles._

_The sound vanishes from the scene. We see Jules look down at his hands. Burned into the flesh, charred and likewise smouldering, is the impression of the crucifix in his skin. Around it the skin is raw. Jules' features begin to change to his vampiric face as a reflex, but he resists it fiercely, shaking his head violently, eventually managing to retain his human face._

_There is a palpable sense of deep shock. Sound floods back as Angel appears on the scene, quiet at Jules' obvious distress._

JULES: Oh God…it burned. It _burned_.

ANGEL: If you'd kept hold of it, it would have dissolved the flesh down to the bone. I've seen vampires tortured with them. Hell, I've done it myself. Hold it down on their chests and it'll eat through the flesh and gobble the heart.

_Jules is incredulous._

JULES: But…but it's meant to be…holy…so does that make me...

ANGEL: You are a _vampire_, Jules. It's doing its job.

JULES: I don't get it. You've got a soul. You're a hero, right? You've saved the world. And yet-what?-according to this (_points_) according to God, you're meant to be unholy? I'm unholy? Why?

ANGEL: I saved the world, yeah. But I did it with a demon inside of me who would have laughed to see it burn, rejoiced to see millions die. We're not _meant_ to be unholy, Jules-we _are_ unholy. You'll have to accept that.

_Angel lifts up one of those sports containers with the push-on caps and the built-in straws, the ones which clip to bikes. As he does we see the straw is stained red._

JULES: (_defiant_) I don't feel unholy.

ANGEL: Blood?

JULES: Oh hell yeah.

**Act II, Scene XIII**

_Angel and Jules emerge into the reception area of the hotel. It's approaching early evening, but the sun is out (this is California, after all) and it spills into the hotel a little through the main doors, forming a half-circle pool of light on the floor._

_Unusually (Wesley and Cordelia must still be on that errand), there is no-one else currently there._

ANGEL: Wes and Cordelia aren't back yet.

_See, told you. Jules, meanwhile, takes a few casual steps around the entrance desk, casting the odd nervous glance over at the outside world. Angel notices this._

ANGEL: Every one of us thought it, too.

JULES: What?

ANGEL: Every single vampire thinks '…maybe the others just didn't have enough faith in themselves, maybe if I show them the way, we can do it'.

_Jules stands agape at him. Angel points to the doors._

ANGEL: You think you can do it?

JULES: I…never said…

ANGEL: I understand, it's all right. It seems so nuts at first, right? I mean, come on…of all the things in the world to be fatal to you, daylight seems less likely than Q-tips. I mean, we've all heard about skin cancer, but…bursting into _flames_? Within seconds? Maybe it's just a mind-over-matter thing. Right?

_Jules nods, taking another couple of hesitant steps. The camera pulls back, until we see he's maybe ten feet from the edge of the circle of light._

JULES: Of all the vampire things, this is the one I least get. I mean, think about it-it's not exactly surprising that a large piece of wood through the heart will do some damage; name me something that wouldn't have a bad day with that. The cross thing I kinda get, though I think it's harsh if you have a damn soul…

_Seven feet…_

_From the reception sofa, Angel sits and watches and waits, silent._

JULES: …but _daylight_? How come most demons walk in it without getting so much as a sunburn; and yet vampires, more human than demons, frazzle up and die?

_Three feet._

JULES: Once you're bitten, that's it? You'll never feel the sun on your face again? But why keep us to the night? Why make us hunt when people are most vulnerable?

_He's breathing hard-well, giving an approximation of breathing hard, at any rate. Taking two more small steps, he's at the very edge of the half circle of light, so close that it affects his eyes; he blinks, a little blinded._

_From the sofa, Angel watches. He closes his own eyes and sighs._

_Jules raises a slightly trembling arm, ready to thrust it forward at any second._

JULES: Maybe…you know, hey, I have a _soul_…and I've had one from the beginning-it could-

…_and he thrusts. His arm enters the light…and is preserved. He turns over his hand, still unblemished, and turns his head to shout to Angel._

JULES: I'm all right! I can do it! It's not bur-

…_and that's when something goes 'whooomph'. An orange light flickers on the back of Jules' head. He screams and pulls his arm away, and we see that it is completely aflame, burning fiercely and brightly._

_Jules howls in agony, hopping about the shaded part of the hotel's reception, clutching at his incinerating limb in blind panic._

_Angel watches this, impassively._

JULES: HELP ME! OH GOD DO SOMETHING OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD -

ANGEL: Extinguisher's behind the desk.

_Jules hesitates for the quarter-second it takes to shoot Angel a look of pure malice, then dives for the reception desk. We don't follow him-instead, we see Gunn entering from the street and nodding to Angel, even as off-camera we hear the sound of a fire extinguisher being used, and long howls of relief interspersed with curses. Gunn watches this action for a moment, not commenting, until-_

GUNN: I'm guessing that wasn't an accident with microwave popcorn?

_Jules clutches at his blackened arm, his face red from exertion, terror, and a healthy dose of humiliation. He shoots Gunn yet another look of total disgust._

ANGEL: Kid's on a learning curve. I don't think we'll need to repeat that lesson.

GUNN: Or at least next time give us head's up, and we'll bring some marshmallows.

JULES: (_bitterly_) Get bent.

_He slumps down on the sofa, muttering and pawing at his arm, emitting occasional whimpers of distress, but now too proud to admit them._

GUNN: I got a call from some old buds. Word is that a major player in the downtown districts has developed a sudden vendetta for vamps.

ANGEL: I'm listening.

GUNN: Old…friend…of mine, Vince, he tells me this guy Canon-you heard of him? (_Angel shakes his head_) I'm not surprised, he's not the flashy type of big fish, but for whatever reason, he wants to sweep the entire hood clean. Vince is talkin' about armies of what looked like Grade A mercs. Canon is letting them out to the local vampire hunters, free of charge.

ANGEL: Maybe he was visited by the three spirits.

GUNN: Yeah- of Dealers Past, Present and Future. But Angel, folks down there are up against it pretty bad. Vince is gonna take what help he can get. From Canon…and from us, too.

ANGEL: What's he planned?

GUNN: (_grimaces_) He ain't big on _plans_…he was kinda hopin' that you and me would provide the tactics, and lend ourselves too-he's targeting a huge nest spread over a couple of buildings. He figures maybe sixty, seventy vamps, and unless he takes 'em out now they're only gonna increase their numbers, so he's setting a date in the next few days.

_Angel thinks it over. We cut to Jules, who's still holding his arm (which is markedly less black than last we saw) but seems very interested in the wider conversation._

ANGEL: Can you take me there? Now?

GUNN: Sure-there's cover, you can scout the place out.

JULES: I'm coming.

GUNN: Oh no you are not-

ANGEL: He's coming.

_Gunn is stunned by this, but there's a note of finality to Angel's voice which does not suggest argument. Besides which, Gunn is keen to press on. He shrugs._

GUNN: (_grinning_) I'll bring the car round.

**Act II, Scene XIV**

_The entrance area, presumably a little later. Wesley has covered the table in books and reference materials and is currently deeply buried in one particularly huge volume; so much so, in fact, that he's completely hidden by it save the top of his head._

_Behind him, we see Melissa descending the stairwell._

MELISSA: Hey, Wes…

_Wesley does not flinch or look up from the book. His reply is in a distant voice._

WESLEY: …yes, terrible…

MELISSA: Doing the taxes?

_She laughs a little, it was meant as a joke. Wesley does not laugh-in fact, he doesn't react at all, save to turn a page which crinkles in a way only books older than national monuments can._

WESLEY: …they'll be back soon…

MELISSA: Right. Are you actually listening?

_This one seems to get through. The book comes down enough for us to see Wesley's glasses and the upper part of his nose. He turns to face Melissa, taking her appearance in for the first time._

WESLEY: (_touchingly concerned_) How are you?

MELISSA: Me? Well hey, I'm a lot more alive than some of the workforce around here, so I guess I'm doing all right.

WESLEY: If you feel you need to talk to someone about what's happened, please…

MELISSA: Wow, thanks Wesley. You guys-you're just darned swell, you know that?

…_as she talks, the book raises again…Melissa notices this with a dry smile._

MELISSA: I mean, you really take the time to listen, and I appreciate that, really and truly, I do.

WESLEY: (_faintly_) …oh, good…

MELISSA: I'm just going into Cordy's office now to steal some of her stuff, OK?

WESLEY: …go right ahead…

_Melissa strides cockily into the office; bare moments later, Cordelia emerges from the street. She's not seen or heard any of the previous exchange. Moving quickly over to Wesley, she taps him on the shoulder. He looks up from his research with a pained 'what now?' expression._

CORDELIA: Where is she?

_Wesley looks dumbfounded, before realisation spreads over him like the first dawn of a new spring._

WESLEY: She said…I…think she went out?

_Cordelia grins at this news, pats him absently, and makes a beeline for the stairwell, shuffling up as fast as she can in her awkward heels._

WESLEY: (_baffled_) Women.

_As she turns the corner and vanishes from sight Melissa pops out of the office, slipping what looks like a lipgloss into the pocket of her jeans with a smile. Her task done, she glances around, bored._

MELISSA: I think I'll grab some eats from the drugstore. Want nibbles? No, I didn't-

WESLEY: Two chewy fingers and a bottle of low-fat drinking chocolate.

_Melissa turns, surprised. All she can see is the book, and he's silent once again. She's bemused by this behaviour._

MELISSA: O…kay. When Cordelia comes back, tell her where I went (_mutters_) like you'd notice what the hell anyone was saying anyway-

WESLEY: Cordelia? She was going up to your room.

MELISSA: (_already rolling her eyes, unawares_) -yeah, I'll be _careful_. Later!

She walks out the doors, and all is quiet, save for Wesley, casually turning a page.

**Act II, Scene XV**

_Gunn's car pulls up to a shaded part of a downtown district._

GUNN: We're here.

_In the back, Angel and Jules pull off a heavy sheet, which had obviously been used to shield both from the effects of the sun during the intercity trip. As they exit the vehicle, marking out the boundaries of their movement (there's a large patch of shadow across the street given by the building behind them), _

_Angel and Jules are immediately struck by a pungent aroma, to which Gunn seems completely oblivious._

GUNN: Place seems quiet.

JULES: …we're in the right spot. Believe me.

_Gunn notices the state of his two companions. They're not exactly repulsed by the smell, just affected; their eyes are wide, nostrils flared. Jules even emits a very low grunt that sounds, for a moment, like a growl, tasting the air. Angel is less moved._

GUNN: You mind tellin me-what's with the sniffer-dog thing?

ANGEL: Blood. (_he nods to the building in front of them_) A lot of blood has been spilled there, fresh, recent blood.

_Gunn seems a little uncomfortable at this sudden animalistic turn of behaviour._

GUNN: Yeah…well…you two should have filled up before we left.

_Angel begins his scrutiny of the stronghold itself._

ANGEL: Two side entrances. Know anything about the local sewers?

JULES: The local _what_?

GUNN: Vince tells me the vamps fan out in all directions come sundown; above ground and below-sewer tunnels, the works. They're that cocky.

JULES: _Sewers_?

ANGEL: Best to have teams stationed along every tunnel, cut off retreats, then make a frontal assault through both surface doors, drive them, separate their mass, and pick them off at close range in the sewers. We have the numbers.

GUNN: (_nods_) That's what I figured.

JULES: (_nods too, out of a need to feel involved_) Count me in.

ANGEL: You were in already, Team Leader.

JULES & GUNN: Team Leader?!

ANGEL: Mmm. All you have to do now is pick your sewer…

**Act II, Scene XVI**

_Cordelia opens the door to Melissa's room with a grin like a Cheshire Cat on morphine, after collagen injections. She makes a beeline for the beds and dives down to begin inspecting under them with great sweeps of one arm. Her tongue protrudes slightly in concentration._

_We cut back to reception. Melissa saunters (she never walks) back in the front doors, munching idly on a packet of crisps…or a "bag of potato chips", whatever. She's carrying a bag under her arm, which she throws to Wesley, who plucks it from the air in mid-flight without even looking up._

MELISSA: Two chewy fingers and one bottle drinking choc.

WESLEY: Low-fat?

MELISSA: Live life on the edge, Wes.

_Meanwhile, Cordelia extracts a case from under Melissa's bed. Opening it, she's disappointed to see just clothes. Inspiration, however, plainly strikes; she begins to feel for a catch along the lining._

_Melissa is ascending the main stairwell._

MELISSA: What's the book about, Wes? Shy English guy saves world from vampires, gets better dental plan from vampire boss?

WESLEY: The manifest destiny of humankind, as transcribed and recorded by the finest soothsayers in history.

MELISSA: (_sighs_) So many comebacks…

_Cordelia finds a catch of some description-the case reveals itself to have a false bottom, which springs up. She gives a little exclamation of triumph and begins rummaging inside._

WESLEY: (_to himself_) Strong sense of impending doom…hmm…

CORDELIA: I knew it!

_She holds up a small compact mirror, two eyeliners and a bottle of nail polish, retrieved from the concealed compartment. She shakes her head in disgust, slips them into her pocket, and is about to leave before noticing that there is more in the compartment than just her liberated cosmetics._

CORDELIA: …ho ho…hidden depths to our little venom-spitter…hey, my _pen_!

_She lifts up a sheaf of paper covered in handwriting. Delighted at this find, she flicks through the pages and runs her finger down a random passage, reading aloud._

CORDELIA: '…she knew that he was her balance in this world, her pivot. Though she might never achieve her dreams or come close to scaling the impossible heights of her fantasies, she would have him always, and it would be enough, and with him she would find-'

MELISSA: '-a place she could call _her own_.'

_Cordelia freezes. A grimace of guilt and embarrassment spreads across her face as Melissa stands leaning against the doorframe, watching her coolly. Just as Cordelia is about to begin making her excuses, she remembers something visibly; she's not necessarily the one on dodgy moral ground here. She fishes out the retrieved cosmetics from her pocket and waves them at Melissa smugly._

CORDELIA: Care to explain these before we get all high-and-mighty?

MELISSA: (_embarrassed_) Ah.

CORDELIA: How _dare_ you steal my things!

MELISSA: How _dare_ you invade my room and go through my stuff, how dare you read my private thoughts for your entertainment!

CORDELIA: Your private thoughts that you wrote with my pen…how _dare_ you!

MELISSA: Oh, enough with the dares already. Sorry about your things.

_Cordelia bites off another stinging volley with a little difficulty-a measure of her increasing maturity. She calms down, and rolls her eyes._

CORDELIA: …well…I guess it's what you've had to do to survive this long.

MELISSA: You're not wrong.

_She walks forward and holds out her hands for the paper, which Cordelia presents her with, before flopping down on her bed._

MELISSA: I'm such a crappy thief though, always have been. Jules was the good thief. I'd be a lot thinner and a lot deader if it weren't for him.

_Cordelia is still standing there. She looks at Mel with more than a trace of sympathy, before reaching a decision and sitting down on the end of her bed. If Mel is surprised at this gesture, she doesn't show it. Neither does she seem to mind Cordelia sticking around, surprisingly._

CORDELIA: You two looked out for each other.

MELISSA: He looked out for me. I don't know why the hell he did it. I'm not saying I'm useless but…I wasn't born for the life, you know (_fidgets_) I mean I've never known real luxury but I've always known there's _better_, you know? And it killed me.

CORDELIA: (_reflectively_) I lived that luxury for most of my life. It's not a ticket to happiness.

MELISSA: It'd be nice to find out for myself if that's true, all the same…

_She grins a little at the weak joke. Cordelia smiles back._

MELISSA: Why'd you change your lifestyle to this?

CORDELIA: It wasn't exactly my choice. Daddy and the Revenue Office had a little misunderstanding of sorts…the 'house and condo and car and horse and personal shopper and trust fund' kind.

MELISSA: Ouch!

CORDELIA: Ouch?! More like (_she screams theatrically, then laughs_)

_We cut to reception. Wesley stops reading, his eyes wide. He throws down the book and scampers for the weapons. We cut back. Melissa has her hand in her pocket-she extracts the lipgloss we saw her pocket from the office and holds it up to Cordelia, looking pretty ashamed._

MELISSA: Look, for years I had precisely one person in all the world who I wasn't a total bitch to. It'll take time to adjust.

CORDELIA: (_smiles a little_) At least the one person you were nice to wasn't yourself. Me, now…different story…

Wesley, armed with a battle axe (_which he's finding difficult to carry_) in one hand and a stake in the other, is bounding up the steps, his gaze intense with grim concentration.

MELISSA: -you did not say that!

CORDELIA: I did, and then I just turned and walked away. Of course, I would have _maimed_ to be able to see the look on her face, but you can't have a Grade A putdown like that and then not top it off with a haughty exit, can you?

MELISSA: Perish the thought! Sounds like you had a blast…

CORDELIA: It was fun. Friendless and kind of empty, but it had its moments, being a superbitch. Of course, then you fall for the right guy…fall in with the right crowd…before you know it, you've become moral and conscientious, and you end up with a spiritually fulfilling job.

MELISSA: Isn't that always the way?

_She glances down at the sheaf of papers still clutched tightly, protectively, in her hand. Cordelia stays silent, waiting for her to say whatever she has to say._

MELISSA: No-one has ever read my stuff before.

CORDELIA: Where did you learn to write like that?

MELISSA: It's a long and heartbreaking story, struggle against the odds, hopeless dreams of getting out of the ghetto, that sort of thing.

CORDELIA: I'm not going anywhere.

MELISSA: You're not? It's a Friday evening…

CORDELIA: (_grits teeth_) Your point being?

MELISSA: You seriously want to hear me talk about myself?

CORDELIA: Duh. 'Angel Investigations: We Help the Helpless', ring a bell?

MELISSA: I thought that was just-

CORDELIA: Well, it's not. We're here for you, for real, and we'll fight for you-

_-just as she says the words, Wesley charges into the room, axe and stake in hand, teeth bared and eyes wide, shouting an incoherent challenge to emptiness._

_He takes in the situation, namely the total lack of anything resembling danger, and the two women sitting there looking at him with something less than total respect, and facial expressions bordering on total bewilderment and a fair dash of amusement._

_Beat._

MELISSA: Was that, like, some sort of demonstration?

**Act II, Scene XVII**

_The offices of Wolfram & Hart. To be specific, Devasson's office. His secretary stands with an electronic notepad across his desk while, at the other side, Devasson sits in his plush leather chair, the very picture of corporate privilege._

_Sitting beside the secretary is Canon. The two men are currently staring at each other, waves of tension radiating from both and acknowledged by neither._

DEVASSON: Cast your mind back to our previous meeting. I told you, quite specifically, that Angel was our territory, and you were to have no involvement with him or face the consequences from this firm. And today I am told that you are, in fact, planning a major counter-offensive with him.

CANON: Wrong, and wrong.

DEVASSON: Oh, really? That's a relief. Sorry to have troubled you. Shut the door on your way out, won't you?

_Canon doesn't move, rather wisely. Devasson is fuming, in his own way._

CANON: You didn't tell me to have no involvement with him. You told me that I couldn't _kill_ him. And I'm not planning the raid, he is. (_smiles_) I'm just arming him.

DEVASSON: Ah yes. The raid. So you imagine that this planned attack will be acceptable to us at Wolfram & Hart, do you? Considering our clientele?

CANON: You represent the rich demons, my friend. I'm going after the blue-collar vamps; I don't think any of them will be on your books.

DEVASSSON: What's your angle on this, hmm?

CANON: I suppose if I don't tell you, I'll never get out of this building alive, right?

DEVASSON: (_smiles charmingly_) Building! How ambitious of you.

CANON: I'm curious about this Angel. I want to see what's so special about him, and this will give me the chance to do just that. I also want to see if those damn guns are worth the ransom I paid for them. Plus, it'll be nice to remind the vamps in my districts that they may not exactly be customers of mine, but just because I don't take my brunch with a plasma side-order they can't chow down on my source of income and not expect some payback.

_Devasson absorbs this through steepled fingers._

DEVASSON: Mmm. And that's it?

CANON: (_sardonically_) Yes, bwana.

DEVASSON: What about, oh, say…the double-cross you're planning to pull on Gunn and his little troops when all of the vamps are dead?

CANON: Oh, did I forget to mention that?

_Devasson's face cracks very slowly into a grin, which we suspect may be genuine. He pats the desk with a hand and points at Canon._

DEVASSON: You might have made a hell of a lawyer, Mr. Canon.

CANON: I'll take that as a compliment.

**Act II, Scene XVIII**

_Melissa and Jules' room, later that night. Jules has returned from his outing and has obviously been ordered to relate everything to an eager Melissa. They sit facing each other on Jules' bed in positions that roughly mirror those of Cordelia and Melissa earlier, the casual poses of friends._

MELISSA: Sewers?! You've finally found your calling, kiddo. Sewer guard.

JULES: Shut up…

MELISSA: So how was training? Considering I wasn't allowed to come watch-

JULES: Damn right you aren't. It's…well, intense stuff.

MELISSA: Boys stuff, you mean. Yawn.

JULES: Vampire stuff, Mel. I don't like you seeing me like that, I don't care how temporary it is.

MELISSA: I think it's cool.

JULES: (_shocked_) Tell me that was a joke.

MELISSA: Jules, I think they sucked the sense of fun out of you when you died. How cool is being superstrong, superfast, agile, immortal?

JULES: Mel, I set myself on _fire_ today trying to see the sky. Trying to see the _sky_.

MELISSA: I saw it plenty. It was just like yesterday-big, blue, boring. So you can't exactly hang ten off a board or shoot a round of golf, big deal.

JULES: You don't understand.

MELISSA: Don't talk to me like that. I'm not an idiot, all right? I'm not a stupid kid either. I've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be in your position…

JULES: …oh, not _this_ again, please…

MELISSA: If there was a button you could press, a switch you could throw, I would do it. I would press it, throw it, do a hula dance on it if that was what it took.

JULES: Mel, that is insane. You don't know what it's like, and I don't care how I sound when I say that, you hear me? (_adding softly_) I like the taste of blood.

_He allows this to sink in. Mel keeps quiet._

JULES: How do you think that makes me feel about myself, eh? I love it. If there was some here now, I'd be drinking it. God, the taste…the sensation…it's amazing. And then you think; how do I look right now? Red at the mouth, yellow eyes, my teeth-no, my _fangs_-stained? And this makes me happy? I feel like an animal, Mel.

MELISSA: (_defiantly_) Better predator than prey.

JULES: Better you never know what I mean.

MELISSA: At least you had this opportunity. You can go back to being human again. (_she looks away, unable to face him while saying…)_ …so could I…

JULES: No. Mel, you're my best friend.

MELISSA: So respect my right to choose. I choose this. I accept the risk.

JULES: How about I respect your right to be _alive_?

MELISSA: You're leaving me behind, Jules. It might take weeks, months, maybe longer, for you to come through this and be 'cured' (_she makes a face_). Until then, how long will we spend together? How many times will you tell me that it's 'vampire stuff', eh? We're going to live in different worlds.

JULES: I don't understand.

MELISSA: (_quietly_) Who's gonna steal me paper, Jules? Who's gonna sit on the end of my bed while I talk about how crappy my life is? Who's gonna look out for me?

JULES: I am! I'll always…(_he falters a little_), maybe it won't be so often but-

MELISSA: We've always done everything together. You know what one of my first memories is? Following you through the streets while we looked for a new place to go. How many homes did we turn down because they were only looking for one kid?

JULES: A few.

MELISSA: More than.

JULES: We'll make the time. We always have. I'm not going to drift away from you because of this, Mel. I wouldn't let it have that effect. Why are you so worried?

MELISSA: Because I love you.

_Jules is open-mouthed at this. For long moments he simply sits there, gaping. Melissa stares down at the bed, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment._

JULES: (_weakly_) I'm waiting for the punchline.

MELISSA: You'll be waiting a long time.

JULES: You're serious?

MELISSA: Of _course_ I'm serious, you dope.

_More silence. Several times Jules makes to say something, then shuts his mouth again and simply takes the time to look stunned. We cut to a view from Mel's point of vision; after a few seconds, she raises her head, and Jules has finally settled on a facial expression he feels confident enough to keep._

_He's smiling_.

JULES: I've always loved you. I love you, God, of _course_ I do.

_Melissa, typically, reacts rather differently than Jules to this news. She squeals in delight and catapults forward across the bed, ensnaring him in a tight hug of joy. They fall back onto the bed, laughing in the emotion of the moment, eventually coming to a rest facing each other on the covers, their faces inches apart._

MELISSA: All these years…and _I _have to make the first move!

JULES: (_laughs_) I thought you saw me as a brother, you know…

MELISSA: I'll call you Billy-Bob and you call me Kathy-Sue?

JULES: I can't believe it. I love you. I love you. God, I can say it! Out loud!

MELISSA: You can say it forever. God…did I just _say_ that?…ick…

_She moves her head closer, her lips brushing his. Neither person moves for a moment, then, in one movement, they come together in a long and lingering kiss. It should be a pretty damn good one!_

_Eventually, out of a lung-bursting need for oxygen (on the part of Melissa, obviously) if nothing else, they separate and bathe in the mini-afterglow._

JULES: …so many years I've waited to…

MELISSA: Me too.

_We cut to downstairs, to reception. Wesley and Cordelia are idly sipping coffee from mugs. Cordelia is flicking through a magazine, with a bored expression._

CORDELIA: Kids are quiet.

WESLEY: You don't think they're…?

CORDELIA: …setting fire to anything? Naah. (_proudly_) I _bonded_ with Melissa.

WESLEY: Mmm.

_Back upstairs, the kids are 'bonding'…through the lips, again. When the kiss breaks we see Melissa look slightly disappointed when she sees Jules' face. She adopts a casual tone._

MELISSA: I thought you might, you know, change.

JULES: Don't worry. Angel told me that negative emotions are much more likely to bring about the change than positive – pain, anger, fear.

MELISSA: The Dark Side of the Force…!

_They share a laugh, both still a little bowled over by the rapid advancing of events which until tonight had been potboiling for well over a decade._

JULES: He said something else about it, something like, when I feel most like an animal…

_Melissa looks suddenly more like a predator than Jules ever will, fangs and all._

MELISSA: The night is young…

**Act II, Scene XIX**

_Gunn and Angel exit from Angel's car, having just returned from a meeting with Vince and his street troops._

GUNN: …sooo, Vince?

ANGEL: Borderline psychotic. Aggressive tendencies. Pathological hatred of vampires, to the point of obsession. Troublemaker.

GUNN: So you liked him, then.

ANGEL: Yeah, he grows on ya.

_Gunn examines the specially-modified handgun Vince acquired from Canon as they enter the hotel and the reception area._

GUNN: I hope these things are as hot as he makes out.

ANGEL: We'll find out.

_We cut to a little while later, same location; Wesley and Cordelia are scrabbling for possession of the gun, to the quiet alarm of Gunn and Angel. The kids are not present. Predictably, it is Cordelia who wins the short struggle. Wesley tries unsuccessfully not to sulk. Cordelia turns the gun over in her hands-it's actually quite a sleek model, but she's unknowingly causing Angel great distress by repeatedly putting him in the line of fire._

CORDELIA: Finally! Something a little more sophisticated than 'a sharp stick, preferably pointy'. If I'd had one of these back in Sunnydale…whoah!

_Angel is quiet, and seems not overly thrilled._

WESLEY: It does represent a major leap forward.

GUNN: We get enough of these things, I'm talkin _serious_ damage. We could take the fight to them. Turn the tables…so why don't I see you happy at this?

_He's referring to Angel. The others turn to take in his tight expression._

ANGEL: It's dangerous.

CORDELIA: Yeah! For vamp…ires…(_she trails off and sucks her cheeks in chagrin_). Ah.

ANGEL: Right now we have the non-fatal variety. What kind of modifications, upgrades, do you think someone with the resources and connections of Wolfram & Hart could do to this thing?

WESLEY: Or the Watcher's Council.

ANGEL: Two organisations which I haven't received any Christmas cards from recently. I'm not just worried about me, though-I've faced worse. If these things are flooded into the market it could trigger a full-scale city-wide turf war. Right now we have a balance-all right, a balance between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, but if they go for each other's throats…it'll be chaos. A bloodbath.

_He lets this sink in with the group, and seems rather pleased to have made his point so well-it did provoke one of his rare speeches, after all._

CORDELIA: Actually, Wolfram & Hart did send a card. (_thinks_) And a ham.

WESLEY: _They_ sent that?

CORDELIA: Yeah. You know, to be evil, but in a kooky way.

GUNN: I had some of that ham. It was _good_! You let me eat Wolfram & Hart food?!

_Wesley and Gunn are greatly disturbed at this news, and stare with betrayed expressions at Cordelia, who realises she's said too much. Not for the first time…_

CORDELIA: I washed it!

ANGEL: GUYS!

_His words are like a gunshot-ironic, given the object that has pride of place in the midst of all those assembled. The humans look a little sheepish. Angel does a pretty creditable impression of an exasperated boss. To refocus the team, he returns to business talk._

ANGEL: The attack is tomorrow night. Cordelia, Wesley, you're here with Melissa. Wes, I'll leave this (_he tosses the gun to Wesley, who catches it with first surprise and then a quick smile in Cordelia's general direction_) here, in case of any more little surprises. Stay here, stay low.

CORDELIA: Wait-you're not taking Jules into this, are you?

ANGEL: I need him fighting his own kind as soon as possible. He won't be on the front lines, near the…guns, he'll be secure but he will see a little action. He needs to. Wes, any news from Virginia?

WESLEY: The scouting team should have entered the target area (_checks watch_) three hours ago. They could be days, weeks, or rotting disembowelled carcasses. As soon as she knows anything, so will-

CORDELIA: Ohhhhhh…

_She clutches at her head, classic first sign of an oncoming vision. The rest surge forward in their seats, fully expecting her to go into the throes of the psychic attack, ready to help her through the accompanying distress and disorientation._

_After a moment of staying perfectly still, though, she shakes her head as if to clear it and sits upright again, plainly a little puzzled herself at the failure of the vision to properly gestate._

CORDELIA: Weird-I could have _sworn_-

ANGEL: _Aaaaaagh_!

_Without any sort of warning, he drops to the floor, his limbs shaking quite violently, eyes opening and shutting, caught in a violent seizure which is identical to that Cordelia goes through which each vision. His forehead is creased with the pain and the intensity of the experience. Everyone else, meanwhile, is dumbstruck by this, with one notable exception-Cordelia springs from her seat in a moment and wraps her arms around her torso, propping him against the sofa._

CORDELIA: Don't just stand there! Standard vision drill, people!

_As the vision subsides, she rests Angel's head back on the cushion until his breathing returns to normal (or whatever equivalent he has). Wesley hands her a cup which she presses to Angel's lips._

CORDELIA: Drink. It helps.

ANGEL: (_weakly_) …no…

CORDELIA: Don't get all Mr Tough Undead Universe on me now! I know how much it hurts!

ANGEL: It's tea.

_Cordelia glances down at the contents of the cup, which are indeed tea, not exactly a vampire's beverage of choice (unless he's got bleached blonde hair). She languishes in one sharp, rebuking look at Wesley, who shrugs as if to say 'you did say standard…'_

CORDELIA: Oh, then visualise the haemoglobin, whatever! Drink!

_Obediently-maybe out of a survival instinct, given Cordy's tone-Angel takes a few sips, and exhales once, slowly. He and Cordelia share a significant look which seems to communicate his silent apologies to her for past casual treatments of the vision process and all it entails in terms of being draining and traumatic._

_She nods fractionally, and a ghost of that familiar smile haunts her lips. Angel gets to his feet, mostly unaided, fast recovering, to face the fiercely curious interrogative gazes of his workforce_.

ANGEL: Get Jules. We're going out.

**Act II, Scene XX**

_A woman staggers along an alley, sobbing hysterically in fear, her clothes torn in places, one shoe lost. She hobbles, alternating between cries of pain and piping squeals of pain; she's hobbling noticeably. Your classic victim, really._

_At the head of the alley, three silhouettes are suddenly framed by the streetlights against the blackness. A sadistic snicker trickles down the walls, causing the woman to redouble her efforts in retreating and increasing the volume of her whimpering cries and loud pleas for help._

WOMAN: Oh God, no…please God…somebody help me!…oh God…

_After another ten feet or so of alley, she glances back again in panic, and stops out of shock. The figures are gone. We see the thought surfacing in her mind-what was worse, knowing where her pursuers were or not…she is frozen to the spot, unsure if going on is now the best course of action, bent over in pain, one hand at her neck; we see blood seeping through her fingers._

_She turns around. There's one silhouette at the end of the alley she was formerly approaching. This makes up her mind for her, and she spins…only to see a second at the opposite end. She pulls at her hair in insane frustration and terror._

_Another laugh floats through the air. This time, though…she looks up, as the third vampire descends from directly above, having jumped from the roof of the adjoining building. Her squeal of fear and attempt to flee is cut off by a casual sweep of his arm, sending her into the wall. Seeming to accept her fate, she does nothing but shake uncontrollably as he leans his head to her neck, to finish the job._

_A car screeches. Loudly. The vampire is sufficiently distracted to pause from his feeding. He raises his head…_

…_to see Angel's car roaring from the street, and directly into the body of the alley itself, with about a metre to spare on each side. The vampire who had been guarding that end of the alley is sprinting for his life ahead of the speeding vehicle. Looking not altogether displeased, the vampire discards his meal and waits._

_A few dumpsters are scattered a little way into the alley. Angel's car comes to a squealing halt before it would have impacted them. The fleeing vampire joins his companion, as from the other side the second 'guard' jogs up, forming a trio. They watch as Angel vaults over the windshield to face them, followed a second later by Gunn…and Jules, who begins doing frantic kung-fu style warm-up moves, to the amusement of the vampires._

VAMP #1: What is this? Vigilante and Son?

ANGEL: You'll have to excuse my friend. You're about to becom-

_Jules screams and charges._

ANGEL: -e his first…kills…(_trails off_)

_He and Gunn exchange a very quick and rather telling look, and dash to keep up. We watch Jules first of all, however, in (what else?) stylish slow-mo. He piledrives into the centre vampire, knocking him off his feet with simple weight if not finesse. As the two flanking creatures begin to move, his right foot lashes out from his position on the concrete, catching the rightmost vamp in the stomach._

_The remaining vampire reaches down and with a snarl plucks Jules from the chest of the prostrate first. Jules drives a heel up, spins, plucks his stake from his waist and stabs it quickly in the hotspot-even as the vampire realises he's about to disintegrate, Jules has moved on, tossing the stake into his left hand, pivoting on his free foot and releasing it with full venom through the air, straight and true into the chest of the charging second vampire, who's nothing more than a puff of dusty air by the time he eventually gets to Jules._

_As time snaps back to normal speed, Angel and Gunn draw to a halt, and the vampire still left lying on the ground looks up at Jules with, for want of a better phrase, pant-wetting terror. Jules scoops up his stake from where it fell and backs into his two companions, keeping a watchful eye on the third vamp._

JULES: (_hisses over his shoulder_) Were you saying something before I-?

_Angel looks about as astonished as we've ever seen him, or are ever likely to. He shares another look with Gunn-this time the subtext is a world away from the 'here we go…' glance they shared bare seconds earlier._

ANGEL: …ah (_coughs slightly_) nothing crucial.

JULES: I thought we could, y'know, interrogate this one. See what he knows.

GUNN: Right.

_Jules looks pleased with himself._

GUNN: See what he knows about…?

_There is an awkward pause as Jules' mind desperately tries to improvise. The vamp, meanwhile, is edging slowly away._

ANGEL: Hey, Jules…it's all right to be eager. I understand. No harm.

JULES: Wait-isn't this neighbourhood near that vamp nest we're hitting? This one might have been inside; we could get the scoop on any defences?

_He looks questioningly at Angel and Gunn, who realise with dread that he's just done it again. Neither is willing to admit it, though. In fact, Gunn has a flash of inspiration himself…he slaps Angel on the shoulder, laughing too heartily._

GUNN: I told you he'd pass that test, didn't I!

_Angel looks blank for a moment, causing Gunn to hit him again._

ANGEL: (_flatly_) You sure did.

_There's a shout of pain, causing all three to return their attention to the vampire, who's made good of this distraction to scramble to his feet…or, well, he tried to, but failed to count on one thing-his former victim racing from the shadows of the alley where she had been discarded and kicking him soundly in the head. Repeatedly._

_Jules jogs over and simply sits down on the agonised creature. He doesn't make any immediate attempt to distract the girl from her task, though._

JULES: Hey, you know, we may want him left with the ability to make sounds. What's your name?

CHARLY: Charly (_kick_) is my (_kick_) name, pleased to (_kick_) meet you, thanks for your (_kick, kick_) help.

_She stops, panting._

JULES: All done? Oh go on, one more.

CHARLY: You're too kind…(_kick_)

ANGEL: (_arriving_) Are you all right?

CHARLY: I've just been chased through two miles of backstreet, I've been bitten, I'm bleeding, my clothes are shot to hell, and this _bastard_ just wrecked my _one remaining shoe_.

_Cursing indiscriminately and crying with anger the sheer trauma of the past night, she tears off the shoe and hurls it down the alley._

GUNN: Musta been the way you kept making him headbutt it like that.

_Charly is, to put it mildly, pretty hysterical. She paces up and down, biting her nails obsessively and shirking from contact with any of them, at a loss for how to behave._

CHARLY: Oh, don't you smartmouth me! I'm the victim here! An hour I screamed, and not one person answered me, can you believe that?!

JULES: Hey…present company excepted, please?

_This evident truth penetrates her daze of terror and relief, and she grins at him, suddenly seeming a lot more stable._

CHARLY: _You_ were amazing. You saved my life.

_Jules stares at her. He smiles, slowly._

CHARLY: Why'd you do that?

JULES: Why? So that you could live on, shine your light in the darkness. So that we could say to that darkness, you're not our master. You don't rule us. You hide from light. So that you can tell others, there's hope in this city. There's someone to answer your call when you can't run any more.

_Beat_.

CHARLY: Would you like to have sex with me, right now?

**Act II, Scene XXI**

_Angel's car, driving away from the scene. In the distance, Charly waves to Jules (having been dropped off at her home), who waves back. He sits back in his seat and sighs, smiles a little, then leans forward to punch Angel on the shoulder._

JULES: Hey, how did I do?

ANGEL: Fine.

JULES: Mel made me learn that speech off. In case someone asked.

ANGEL: Nice. You must have it framed.

JULES: They were your moves, really. I would have been creamed without our training. Once you get the hang of these vampire reflexes, though…

GUNN: You was rash, Jules. Good, and maybe a little lucky, but rash.

JULES: Well yeah, but I thought; how many vampires actually carry around stakes? I mean, apart from you and me…it's not exactly standard-issue. So I figured the worst I was in for was being roughed up a little, I knew you two weren't far behind. Hey-how noble was I, turning her sex offer down, giving her the little speech about self-esteem and waiting and all! Come on!

ANGEL: Jules, this isn't a video game. You don't score points for each noble gesture.

JULES: You don't? I thought that was how 'atoning' worked?

_Angel doesn't reply. Frustratingly, Jules has a habit of being right. He's also just outshined Angel at Angel's own calling, and it's obvious that this fact is biting down on Angel, but what can he say? It's a human failing, an ego bruise, and Angel is ashamed to admit that it even exists, but exist it does, palpably. Gunn is quiet because he senses as much, and knows and likes Angel enough to recognise that this is something he's going to work through._

_Jules, unfortunately, has no such insight, and his playing the cocky upstart with gusto._

JULES: I'd say that I was looking forward to tomorrow night, but that'd only get me lectured at for the next twenty decades.

ANGEL: Jules, dammit-

JULES: What? What the hell is wrong with you? We just saved a woman from being sucked dry. We just did some good, I think we earned a little smile-time…oh wait, I forgot, you're the brooding hero type. Well, I'm not. Get used to it.

ANGEL: You're not even _close_ to understanding what this job means. And if you keep talking like that…

JULES: …you'll what? Ground me? Who are you now, my sire _and_ my father?

ANGEL: No. I haven't abandoned you.

_The words strike home. Jules is shocked at their candidness, but there is little point denying their accuracy._

ANGEL: Accept that you're still learning. Don't bask in your own glory. Heroes, real heroes, don't get any. Ever. Your glory tonight was her thanks. Not exactly a movie deal and a tickertape parade, but that's where it ends. And when I tell you to listen to me, you damn well do it, because it will keep you kicking a little longer. Whether you like it or not, until you're human again we are stuck with each other.

_Jules absorbs all of this. He still has made no reply when the car draws to a close, having reached the hotel. Angel turns off the engine and shifts in his seat to face Jules, obviously awaiting a response before doing anything else._

JULES: What time for training tomorrow?

ANGEL: Bright and early – one p.m.

_Jules tilts his head, thinks about that, and gives the very smallest fraction of a tiny half-smile. With that, he leaps from the car and bounds into the hotel, gone in a moment. Angel and Gunn remain seated._

ANGEL: Did I sound convincing?

GUNN: Convincing? Man, I was _this_ close from askin' could I have a reading light.

We close on Angel's thoughtful grin.

**END OF ACT II**


	3. Act III

**Act III, Scene I**

_Melissa and Cordelia are walking through town. Melissa is carrying the case that Cordelia so recently invaded with her; but it's her appearance that should grab our attention, not her accessories. Obviously we've missed a major makeover session. She looks like a Cordelia Mini-Me, sporting designer clothes from sculptured heel to plunging neck, capped off with a pair of elegant, simple shades._

MELISSA: (_falsetto_) Oh Cordelia – men keep staring at me – am I _really_ so ugly?

CORDELIA: Why my friend, it is because you are so fair that they stare!

_Melissa brings a dramatic hand to her temple._

MELISSA: Oh, can it be…?!

_She breaks into a fit of giggles with Cordelia, neither able to sustain the deadpan expressions any longer._

CORDELIA: Hey, feel free to use that one. In your stories. Fair, stare…

MELISSA: (_diplomatically_) I'll, ah, be sure to remember it. Look at us! Look at me! Look at the _guys_! Men are such freaks, I swear. If I was walking along naked, they wouldn't give me a seco…(_she rethinks_) a _third_ glance.

CORDELIA: Pshaw! Men! More substance in a Chicken McNugget.

MELISSA: So shallow!

CORDELIA: OhmyGod! Shoes!

_She squeals with excitement and darts into the nearest store, followed a heartbeat later by Mel, clearly thrown in at the deep end but having a hell of a good time drowning…an instant later, though, both re-emerge, Cordelia fairly manhandling Melissa back to the sidewalk. Melissa is struggling mightily to go back inside._

CORDELIA: No! We (_she grunts with effort_) have…an…appointment!

MELISSA: Just an hour or two. Please. I've never 'browsed' before. I want to annoy the assistant. I want to be obnoxious about the range he has. I want to pretend I don't speak English. I want to make bitchy comments about the women shopping in the bargains section. Then I want to change my mind and walk out with a shoelace. Oh God, _please_…

CORDELIA: (_hypnotically_) Okay…no! No! This is your _future_ we're talking about! Anne said this guy had some serious contacts, remember? You're not gonna jeopardise this chance to get your talent recognised, hear me? Maybe get a foothold at a shot at a really good life…and besides, we're coming right back here afterward.

_Melissa relaxes._

MELISSA: Oh, OK. After lunch, right?

_Cordelia gives one of her trademark 'pleeeease!' snorts as they resume walking._

CORDELIA: Shopping on empty? Are you _nuts_?

_They laugh. We sense a growing affection between the two; what Wesley said right at the very beginning to Cordelia is coming to pass – having young people around is having a positive effect on Cordelia, reminding her of less complicated days and giving her a companion in the form of Melissa, someone whom she can unwind with in her own patented ways…_

**Act III, Scene II**

_We quickly see Angel and Jules training, before cutting to the hotel's reception area, where Gunn is speaking on the phone and Wesley is engaged in another one of his nondescript filing tasks._

GUNN: …look, just don't touch 'em, OK? I'll be right over – (_puts down phone_) – Wes, man, I gotta dive down to Vince's place; he just got hold of more anti-vamp guns, and I want to be there to stop him gettin' any ideas about going in early.

WESLEY: He wouldn't be that rash, surely?

GUNN: This guy's idea of a surgical strike would be camouflaged flamethrowers. You coming?

WESLEY: Me?

GUNN: Yep. We need the best out there.

_His frank praise brings a slight smile to Wesley._

WESLEY: Er, no, no. I'll stay here, hold the fort.

GUNN: (_nods_) Whatever. Later…

_As he leaves, we cut back down to the training room. Jules and Angel are sparring, quite intensely. Their outfits (all in black) are identical, and their fighting styles very similar, but there's a world of difference in their expressions. Angel wears a mask of grim concentration, whereas Jules has more of an air of someone who is relishing the contest, and the heat of the moment._

ANGEL: Don't let emotions surface when you're fighting.

JULES: What's the point of having a soul if you're afraid to show it?

ANGEL: Souls don't bestow or take away the capability for emotion, Jules. Look at vampires; they can hate, they can fear, they can even love each other…in a way.

_They are still sparring. Jules forces Angel to retreat across the room in a series of dodging leaps, until Angel uses the hanging punchbag to counter the attack, resuming the ebb and flow of the stalemate._

JULES: So what's the deal with a soul?

ANGEL: Souls aren't the capability. Souls are the motivation. It's like adding colour. Suddenly everything has depth. A soul gives a thing a meaning, a purpose, beyond simple survival or pleasure, beyond the thing itself. Show too much of what you care about to your opponent and you're that much closer to revealing your – hey, Mel…

_Jules half-turns instinctively…and is sprawling on his back in a moment later. He gets to his feet, shaking his head ruefully._

ANGEL: …weakness.

JULES: (_winces a little_) Point taken.

ANGEL: How are you two?

_Jules reddens at once. Given the natural pallor of a vampire, it's like he's wearing a lighthouse for a hat._

JULES: …fine…hey, ah, can I have a toilet break?

ANGEL: (_dully_) A toilet break.

JULES: Yeah.

ANGEL: You're a vampire.

JULES: And? Wait a-you're not saying we don't have to-

ANGEL: Well, have you-since you were-?

_Jules mulls it over._

JULES: Actually no, but…where does all the blood go? Come to think of it, maybe that's why we don't…I mean, never mind the pale skin and the lack of reflection, that'd be a fairly obvious giveaway, huh?

ANGEL: (_puzzled_) What would?

JULES: Well, it'd be red, wouldn't it? We'd put the fear of God into guys standing next to us in the john. It must be handy, for the heroic champion thing, never having to worry about dashing off for a leak.

ANGEL: Oh yeah. Makes the super strength and the immortality seem like an afterthought. Getting back to the point…you and Mel?

_We cut back upstairs to reception. Wesley leans on the desk, his filing task complete, and his chin resting in his hand. He looks deeply bored, and a little annoyed with himself too._

WESLEY: "I'll hold the fort"…yes, heaven forbid I should leave it with only the two vampire warriors to protect it; idiot.

_He sulks at himself for a moment._

WESLEY: "You're here with Mel, stay here and stay low." Who was it who took on the demon hordes last year when you-

_The phone rings next to him, almost causing him to slam his chin into the desk as he reaches desperately for it. He composes himself and fairly snatches it from the cradle._

WESLEY: Angel Investigations: We Help The Hopeless. How can-

_He stops, the hopeful expression plummeting from his face…along with the colour._

WESLEY: Grayson. Yes, a long time. No, I wouldn't say too long. Really? And what makes you think I have the slightest _possible_ inclination to meet you?

_His mouth tightens._

WESLEY: I'm on my way.

**Act III, Scene III**

_Devasson sits in a very different office to the luxurious model we last saw him in at Wolfram & Hart. This is a tiny, modestly furnished room with no amenities save a water cooler which looks as if it could possibly be the prototype model, and an old television and video. The walls, however, are covered in 'motivational' posters and paraphernalia from his phony charity, the Junior Uplift Charity Association. Typically, he's on the phone._

DEVASSON: Yes, liquidise. Only if you have to. Or if you feel like it, we're nothing if not flexible (_he laughs_) but don't screw up this time or I'll rip out your lungs and make sandcastles out of them. Ciao!

_He replaces the phone as the door to his office is knocked, and opened a second later by his secretary, with Melissa and Cordelia in tow._

DEVASSON: Kim, show the lovely ladies in!

KIM: Yes, Mr. Devasson, sir.

DEVASSON: You take off, Kim, go see the kids. I'll handle any calls. Full pay, before you ask.

_He winks at her as Cordelia and Melissa sit down amidst this. Kim nods and murmurs her thanks, leaving Devasson alone and with the chance to unleash his best smiles, which he does with relish while shaking his visitors' hands._

DEVASSON: I'm tempted to ask which one of you is Melissa, but (_he nods to the case Mel is holding rather protectively_) it's fairly evident.

_Cordelia laughs a tad too loudly at this comment, obviously a little dazzled by his style, smile, and smarm. To her credit, Melissa remains fairly impassive._

CORDELIA: She's our little Pagemaster!

DEVASSON: How long have you been writing?

MELISSA: Always.

DEVASSON: Good. _Excellent_, in fact. Now, I don't wish to raise your hopes but the firm (_and we sense he's talking about Wolfram &Hart , though obviously neither Cordelia or Melissa know this_) has strong, strong contacts with colleges and organisations which are crying out for what they call "urban youth root".

MELISSA: Sounds like a disease.

DEVASSON: I know! It's a terrible phrase.

MELISSA: Disease sounds about right.

_Devasson's eyes linger on her. _

DEVASSON: I'll need to look at your portfolio, obviously.

_Melissa seems pained._

DEVASSON: Something wrong?

CORDELIA: Just her artistic temperament. (_to Mel, urgently_) Relax!

MELISSA: There's stuff in there that I don't want anyone close to me to see.

CORDELIA: Tell you what – I'll wait outside.

MELISSA: Actually, you…

_She stops, having been about to assure Cordelia that she didn't necessarily include her in that group, but thinks better of it on seeing Cordelia's expression. Despite her acid tongue, her older friend can be quite fragile._

MELISSA: …would be helping me a lot, um, if you did that.

_Devasson smiles thinly, dangerously._

DEVASSON: Let's get started, shall we?

**Act III, Scene IV**

_Wesley's motorcycle draws to a stop alongside two sleek black Mercs in another unidentifiable part of town. Classic badguy cars. Three men are leaning casually against the rearmost car, while two men linger around the other. All are dressed sharply. Wesley approaches the trio with open hostility and a definite tang of apprehension._

_The man in the middle is Grayson. In marked contrast to the other four visible figures, he does not possess narrowed eyes and a hooded look. He's middle-aged, comfortably podgy, and wears a cheerful grin._

GRAYSON: Wyndham Price! It must be five years.

WESLEY: What the hell are you doing here?

GRAYSON: A fine way to greet the people who put food on your table for over a decade.

WESLEY: What are the Watchers Council doing in LA?

GRAYSON: We'll tell you. If you'll listen. And you'd do well to listen, Wyndham Price. It's not slipped our minds that you co-operated with a vampire to help harbour a rogue Slayer.

WESLEY: You're threatening me?

GRAYSON: Stop. We may not like each other, but at this moment, believe it or not, you're going to need our help. Are you going to listen?

_We cut to a view of the scene from the opposite angle, from behind Grayson, which enables us to see that the other pair of men both have guns trained on Wesley's head. Wesley is totally oblivious to this. He hesitates before replying. Grayson's eyes flick to the gunmen._

WESLEY: I'll listen.

GRAYSON: You see? Trust is not impossible, is it?

**Act III, Scene V**

_Devasson's office. He's engrossed in reading Melissa's work, while she sits there and fidgets intensely, obviously incredibly discomforted by this. Every few seconds he looks up and shoots her a smile. After another few brief moments he gently places the sheets of paper back on the desk and sits facing her, saying nothing, his hands joined and supporting his chin thoughtfully. She's fairly trembling with anticipation._

MELISSA: Well?!

_Devasson is unfazed. He separates his hands, hesitates (for purely sadistic reasons) and brings them together very slowly. And again. And again. After that, his three hundred watt smile is let loose. He proffers his hand to her, and she shakes it a little dazedly, as he shakes his head in wonder._

DEVASSON: Simply stunning. What can I say? Oh, the spelling is atrocious of course, but please! With someone of your opportunities to produce this sort of work! This is better than I could have imagined-you're more than qualified enough to land yourself a scholarship, more than qualified. I'll start the proceedings immediately to see just how far and how fast we can get you.

_We cut to Melissa. She's speechless, dumbstruck, confounded by this._

DEVASSON: It's lucky your writing skills aren't on a par with your verbal.

MELISSA: I'm…sorry, um…you _liked_ it? For real?

DEVASSON: I loved it. Sharp without being cocky, postmodern, youthful, full of energy but lacking in the usual inherent _naïveté_ of the young author. I have no hesitation in predicting that your life is about to change.

MELISSA: Change?

DEVASSON: (_laughs a little_) Yes, of course it will. College. Campus. You'll be sponsored for it all.

MELISSA: People will _pay_ me to go to college? You serious?

DEVASSON: Perfectly serious.

_Melissa takes this in. She's not jumping up and down, but she is pleased…and also troubled, because there's an obvious flaw to this great new development._

DEVASSON: Ah…reluctant to leave someone behind?

MELISSA: Yeah.

DEVASSON: Not just that, but you're also going to enter an entirely new world. It's only natural to feel a little intimidated at that, Melissa.

MELISSA: I never expected…

DEVASSON: Don't worry about it. I'm not just here to tell you what you've always known for yourself, or to get you a sponsor. I'm here to act as your guide through the coming changes. If there's anything that I, or Wolfram & Hart, can do to help…

_Melissa's head snaps up. Her eyes widen in fear. Devasson doesn't bat an eyelid._

MELISSA: (_incredulously_) Wolfram & Hart?

DEVASSON: The Juvenile Uplift Charitable Association is funded entirely by the firm. Didn't you know?

MELISSA: This is nuts!

_She stands up, keeping her eyes locked fearfully on Devasson as she does so, backing away towards the door to the office._

MELISSA: What do you think, I'm that stupid? Angel's said enough about you guys to give anyone nightmares, and you're going to help me with a _writing_ career now? Out of what? The world-domination of your heart?

DEVASSON: Angel…you know him?

_Melissa bites off a reply, scowling fiercely. She reaches the door._

MELISSA: You had me believing you. I thought: God, _finally_ one of those miracles you hear about happened to me, what do you know?

DEVASSON: Everything I said was true. Don't refuse this opportunity.

MELISSA: Opportunity? To what? Have the chance to work for a bunch of people who count murder as corporate games? Leave me alone, and leave my friends alone.

_The door is locked. Melissa bangs on it a few times, now genuinely frightened. Devasson has remained totally immobile in his seat, and watches her begin to panic impassively. She turns, her face flushed, shaking._

MELISSA: Let me go. Now.

DEVASSON: I'm not going to sit here and watch you throw away a chance like this. You haven't the faintest idea about the truth…about us, and about your pointy-toothed knight either. You're in no danger, I promise you that. Not in this room. Not from me. Not from Wolfram & Hart. From Angel…(_he shrugs_)…who can tell.

MELISSA: He took us in. He protected us.

_A troubled look flashes across her face as she says 'protected us'…after all, Angel didn't exactly succeed spectacularly in that mission, with Jules' current situation a testimony to that_.

MELISSA: You people work for demons. You take pay from vampires. You've all sold your souls. And now you're going to, what, try and persuade me that you've been shown in a bad light all this time?

DEVASSON: Not at all. But you're an adult. Your writing shows that. Your intelligence proves it. So you tell me, Melissa – is it possible in this life to separate things into good and evil, nice and neat? We may walk a dark path, I admit it, but in doing so I've made my life safer, better. My family are well-fed. I'm a good husband and a good father. Millions of people go to work in evil jobs every day. Traders on the stock market. Some people think butchers are evil. _Everyone_ thinks journalists are. And let's not get into lawyers, yeah. I'm not pretending what I do for a living is something shining and pure and holy. I represent monsters – that doesn't make _me_ one.

MELISSA: Doesn't it?

DEVASSON: We're good to our own. I haven't lied to you yet, and I'm not going to start now. We will give you the money for a good education. We'll allow you to fulfil any dreams you've ever had, and we'll protect you. In fact, we've already started. Take a look at this-

_He plucks a remote control from among the desk clutter and points it abruptly at the television, surprising Melissa. The screen comes to life and begins playback of a video recording of the earlier encounter between Devasson and Canon…_

VIDEO RECORDING:

CANON: Kiss his ass _au revoir_. I don't care if Saddam Hussein is their godfather and they got a private army each for Christmas, I need to talk to those kids. At. Great. Length.

DEVASSON: _Merde-_we have a conflict of interests, Mr Canon. You're not exactly the most subtle of operators, and Wolfram & Hart would not look kindly upon any collateral damage you may cause.

CANON: I'll find those two little bastards, and I don't care who's in the way. Threats don't bother me. Not from you, or your bunch of crooked lawyers, or your hired muscle.

DEVASSON: It seems you don't know us at all, Mr Canon.

_Melissa watches as the demons emerge from the fleet of Wolfram & Hart vehicles to intimidate Canon's men. The playback stops there, rather conveniently._

DEVASSON: Without Wolfram & Hart holding him in check, your old friend would probably have you dead by now. Which would put rather a crimp in your college ambitions, wouldn't it?

_Melissa is silent._

DEVASSON: Think about that. Oh, and please, accept this-

_He rummages in a drawer in his desk and proceeds to produce a small vial filled with a glowing green fluid._

MELISSA: My own snot jar! Where do I sign?

DEVASSON: This is Mohra blood. 100 pure.

_The implications of this statement are not lost upon Melissa. She takes an involuntary step backward, clearly shocked._

MELISSA: You _know_ about Jules?

DEVASSON: You expected less? This is enough blood to make one vampire totally human again. Oh, and in case you're interested, the market value of this vial is around seven million dollars.

_Nervously, Melissa licks her lips_.

MELISSA: And you're just going to _give_ this thing to me?

DEVASSON: It's enough to save your friend…to cure him…that's assuming, of course, that '_cure'_ is the right term…?

MELISSA: What?

DEVASSON: Our knowledge doesn't stop at the fact that your boyfriend is suddenly eating much less junk food. You don't think what happened to him was so tragic an event, do you Melissa?

_No reply is forthcoming. Devasson keeps up his burning, accusing stare for a few more seconds before breaking off and shrugging._

DEVASSON: There's really nothing more I can say to you. Don't think for one moment that I was lying about your abilities; you have what it takes. So do we. Wolfram & Hart can make your dreams come true.

_Casually he throws her the vial. She scrambles forward in a blind panic to stop it escaping her grip and clamps it tightly between her hands, heaving a reflexive sigh of relief as she does so._

DEVASSON: _All_ of your dreams.

_Melissa walks out, tucking the vial away into her case as she does so. Cordelia is sitting by the front door entrance to the building, bored. She jumps up as Melissa approaches, beaming with excitement._

CORDELIA: What's the story?! Did he like?

_Several replies flash visibly across Melissa's face. She smiles a forced smile, bringing the case around to her back and out of sight._

MELISSA: Seems I'm a hit…

**Act III, Scene VI**

_Wesley, Grayson, and the remaining Council heavies walk into a cathedral. As usual, it is all but deserted, save a few nuns scattered about the pews like black pollen. The group take up seats away from anyone else._

WESLEY: Start talking.

GRAYSON: The Codex is a fake.

WESLEY: The Pergamum Codex?

GRAYSON: The one your boss requisitioned for Rupert Giles, yes. It's a copy, not the original text.

_We might expect Wesley to ask why the conversation is about a book and not something a little more relevant, but despite himself he is fascinated already; these books are, after all, one of his great passions._

WESLEY: How do you know?

GRAYSON: Carbon dating and rune casting.

WESLEY: Carbon dating on…? You mean you-

GRAYSON: -have the original, yes. Before you ask, believe it or not the Council had it, locked up in our deepest stock vaults.

WESLEY: That's absurd! The Council spent centuries looking for the Codex, and we…they…had it all the time?

GRAYSON: The idea was to convince the other side that we _didn't_ have it. That was the reason for the duplication and circulation of the copy-well, aside from the fact that on page 220 the book predicted as much.

WESLEY: If the Council was so desperate to protect the book, why make a copy and then lose it so quickly…unless…

GRAYSON: The real Codex, our original, contains a few extras. One extra chapter that was never copied. This whole sham was a top-level secret; so much so that the retiring President of the Council passed it on to their successor and no-one else. Until recently, one entire person on this whole planet knew about this extra chapter.

WESLEY: You have my attention.

GRAYSON: It deals with something called the _Uongy'tenre_…we had a translation team working on it for quite some-

WESLEY: 'The Choice of the Impossible Champion'?

_Grayson is surprised. Wesley stares impassively. He knows he's good._

GRAYSON: You wouldn't want your old job back, would you?

WESLEY: I didn't like the pension plan.

GRAYSON: Ah.

WESLEY: Or the casual indifference toward justifying the murder, blackmail and intimidation of those weaker than the Council.

GRAYSON: Yes well I admit, the pension plan _could_ use a little work. Regardless, it seems that this 'Choice' is the single event depicted in the Codex that has been left open-ended. Even the author of the most powerful book of prophecy in history was unable to predict the outcome.

WESLEY: What do we know?

GRAYSON: That it can end the world. (_Beat_) You seem unsurprised.

WESLEY: This is the Codex. If it's anything less than Armageddon, it's a footnote.

GRAYSON: It involves a series of tests. They're designed to eliminate for certain a specific form of life, undead or otherwise, at each stage. The entire ordeal is engineered to be logically impossible to survive.

WESLEY: If that's so, then why the huge cover-up?

GRAYSON: We think, for the first time, that there may be a way-or more accurately, an individual, who could possibly survive the tests and be granted the Choice. We know from the Codex that one of the five tests will only allow vampiric life to pass. Another test eliminates any participant without a soul. One of the tests is only possible for humans to endure.

WESLEY: The other two?

GRAYSON: The Codex describes only three, and even those are vague at best. We've searched every occult book we can find, and found only a few hushed references.

WESLEY: Angel…

GRAYSON: The location and the point in time-roughly here and now, LA-are pinpointed by the Codex. It doesn't name the Champion, but…

WESLEY: So the Council knew all along about Mohra blood and its effects?

GRAYSON: Yes, though it was highly classified. Given the rarity and viciousness of the Mohra, it was something that was only given attention in dire emergencies-in cases of Slayers being sired, for example.

WESLEY: It may be possible for Angel to pass all three known stages, but as usual you're completely missing the point – he's not about to perform some ritual to bring about doomsday, for God's sake.

GRAYSON: You don't understand. We're not here to kill him to _prevent_ him from doing it. We're here to persuade him to do it.

_His words echo a little around the impossibly grand interior of the cathedral. Wesley sits still in his seat, his lips compressed into a thin line._

WESLEY: I'm looking forward to _this_ explanation.

GRAYSON: It's called 'The Choice' for a reason. Should the Impossible Champion get successfully through every stage, they are presented with the opportunity to do one of two things; bring about two Armageddons, if you will.

WESLEY: In case the first wasn't apocalyptic enough?

GRAYSON: (_sighs_) Wyndham, think laterally for a moment. How many times have the forces of darkness tried to bring about the end of days?

WESLEY: It's been a quiet week.

GRAYSON: We've grown to think that only evil can benefit from an apocalypse. But I ask you – what if Armageddon were on _our_ side? What if the end of days meant the death of all vampires…demons…the victory over evil, once and for all.

WESLEY: (_faintly_) I never thought it was possible…

GRAYSON: Why not? Why shouldn't it be? The uongy'tenre could usher in Paradise, Wesley. This is our chance to actually do more than save the world at the last minute, at least until the next bunch of demons try to open one Hellmouth or other. And Angel is the key. This is his destiny, don't you see? He becomes human and ends the eternal struggle in our favour. He finally saves himself, redeems his past.

WESLEY: (_a little thrown_) What you're telling me is…hard to take in.

GRAYSON: It's all true. And here, my ex-colleague, is the hard proof.

_He produces a book from his pocket, a truly ancient object which fairly screams its antiquity and looks as if it could fall apart at any moment. Wesley looks as if he is about to faint, such is his reverence. Grayson pushes the book into Wesley's grasp. Agonisingly slowly, Wesley dares to turn a single page, hands shaking._

GRAYSON: We do, however, have one problem.

WESLEY: …do tell…

GRAYSON: In order to begin the ritual, one must activate the Talisman of Arcon, fashioned by the first wizards, blessed by the first Pope, lost during the Second Crusade…auctioned, to Wolfram & Hart.

**Act III, Scene VII**

_The hotel. Angel and Jules emerge from the training room, both drenched in their usual industrial dose of sweat. A full-scale debate is in progress between them._

JULES: You don't know the first thing about us!

ANGEL: I've seen it all before, Jules. I _lived_ it.

JULES: Lived? You mean there's more to you than the brooding?

ANGEL: (_hotly_) If you were half as much in love in Melissa as I was with Buffy-

JULES: Hey, what gives you the right to compare my relationship with yours? How can you say how much I'm in love?

ANGEL: Your age, Jules. What are you? Eighteen, nineteen?

JULES: What age was Buffy when you met her?

_The quick back-and-forth nature of the dialogue dies at this, and Jules recognises that he's scored a point. Angel runs out of verbal steam, but rallies._

ANGEL: Buffy was unique.

JULES: Every girl you're in love with is. Melissa is…like everything that's good about life, given a pulse.

ANGEL: More than you have.

JULES: What the hell does that have to do with it? I have a _soul_, you moron. I just don't stop being human because I-

ANGEL: Yes you do. Jules, you're not human. Neither am I. We may both have souls, and we may both cherish our qualities of humanity, but we're not _homo sapiens_ any more. We're different.

JULES: Is this that stupid demon thing again?

_Angel reacts badly to this._

ANGEL: This _stupid demon thing_ is a line you're walking now without even knowing it. Your soul may be suppressing it, but you have a demon inside of you that wants out, and wants to tear this world apart one soul, one innocent, one massacre at a time. If you let your guard down, if you forget what you are-it _will_ take control, soul or no soul, love or no love. Someone once told me love was about blood, not brains. They were right. That's what makes it so dangerous for us. For me. For you. Jules I'm sorry, it won't work with you and Melissa.

JULES: Because it didn't with you and Buffy.

_The words, the accusation, hangs heavily in the air. Jules remains strong behind it, his eyes burning with the anger he feels. Angel is caught between the throes of the argument and the feelings stirred within him remembering his past._

ANGEL: For a while, it worked.

JULES: And she was human, right?

ANGEL: Mostly. She was the Slayer.

_Before Jules can ask (and we can see clearly he was about to; obviously he doesn't yet know about Slayers), the front doors open and Cordelia and Melissa step in from the sunlit street. Melissa is still noticeably clutching her bag close to her, and seems withdrawn. Cordelia and Jules are delighted. Angel is…well, Angel._

JULES: How did it go?

CORDELIA: (_claps her hands_) She's a star!

JULES: I already knew that…

_He steps forward and hugs an unresisting Melissa. The hug evolves from close embrace to yet another quite strong kiss. We see the reactions of the two adults; Cordelia is flabbergasted, and simply gapes. Angel coughs delicately after a few moments. Eventually, separation is achieved. Jules gives a small sigh of contentment, holding Melissa, who grins back…a shade weakly._

CORDELIA: (_to Jules_) Remind me _never_ to tell you if I successfully audition, OK?

_She punches Melissa in a rebuking way on the shoulder._

CORDELIA: You might have told me!

MELISSA: It's, um, early days.

ANGEL: (_dryly_) Good to know.

JULES: Oh look, I'm getting pretty damn sick-

ANGEL: Neither of you have the slightest idea what you're getting into. I'm not against you two being together for one minute; you've known each other for years, and it's easy to sense the connection. I just think it would be better to wait until Jules is human again.

_We cut to Melissa, who instinctively cradles the bag. Which, needless to remind everyone, contains a vial which can achieve that exact goal. She seems agonised beyond belief over whether to speak up, say something. Before she can do anything, Cordelia, who until now has been too amazed to speak (a rare occurrence indeed), finally finds her voice._

CORDELIA: Look who's getting all judgemental! Mr 'Fall-in-love-with-my-natural-nemesis', Mr 'turn-evil-and-try-to-kill-everyone', Mr 'obsess-about-my-old-flame'!

ANGEL: Cordelia, a little support here? Please?

JULES: For all I know I could be killed on this mission tonight, right? I'm damned if I'm going to wait for anything…especially the one thing I've been waiting for my entire life.

_He hugs Melissa again, but she pulls away unexpectedly, upset._

MELISSA: Jules, please, don't go.

JULES: What? But I-

MELISSA: But what? Why are you going? (_turns to Angel_) I don't understand you. First of all it's 'oh sorry about that turning you into a vampire thing, just sit still, don't bite anything and I'll get you back to normal ASAP' and now…now he's like your latest weapon or something. You're putting his life in danger.

ANGEL: I can't deny what he's become. If he chooses to use what he has to help me, then I'm willing to accept his help.

MELISSA: Jules, please. I don't want to lose you. Why are you doing this?

JULES: What do you mean, why? Because it's the right thing to do.

MELISSA: Yes, for the right people. God, we're just kids…you're not a superhero, you know? You could _die_.

CORDELIA: (_quietly, to herself_) Okay, here's where Cordy usually butts in with the wrong thing and gets all awkward…well not this time…just gonna tiptoe away…

JULES: This is-(_he stops, hesitating)-_this is the first thing, ever, that I've felt I'm _good_ at, Mel, and that I've been proud to be good at. All my life I've done what it took to get by, and get you by. Watching you do the writing thing…it was a kind of compensation for me, because of the stealing, and the lying I was doing. I loved you, but I never thought, I guess, that I _deserved_ you. Doing this thing, helping people, going up against the darkness, I know that I'm doing something right. And I can look at you, and not be ashamed of me.

_He takes her hand and places it on his chest._

JULES: My heart doesn't beat, but I feel _alive_ for the first time. This is what I want to do, I know that now. I don't want to be a vampire, because I want to grow old. With you, Mel.

_Her eyes brim with tears. Cordelia, who valiantly attempted to make good on her promise and walk away, only to get about three feet, bites her lip, reaches over and hugs a very surprised Angel tightly. _

_Melissa gropes for her bag and its contents-_

MELISSA: I have something-

WESLEY: Angel!

GUNN: Guys!

_Both have burst in from the street within seconds of each other. They exchange a glance, and attempt to speak again, only to interrupt each other again. With a glare, Wesley nonetheless gestures to Gunn to speak first, even as Melissa attempts, vainly, to attract attention back to her._

GUNN: Vince is panicking-he thinks the vamps are wise to us. He says we hit in the next hour or we storm an empty building. When he says _we_, he means with or without us…in case that wasn't obvious.

_Angel pulls on his ever-present coat, manner businesslike. Jules kisses Melissa goodbye, instinctively goes to the stand and looks miffed._

JULES: I get a coat, right?

ANGEL: Tomorrow. Let's roll out. Sundown's in about twenty minutes anyway. Wes, like I said, the gun is there, keep low, keep alert. Oh, was what you had to say really important, because…?

WESLEY: I'll remind you said that. No, it can wait until after the attack, assuming everything goes as smoothly as planned.

_Gunn, Angel and Jules freeze on their way to the front doors. Wesley grimaces._

WESLEY: Oops. Sorry…

**Act III, Scene VIII**

_The building we saw earlier in daylight, now a silhouette in the first moments of the Los Angeles night. Things seem fairly quiet. We cut away a little to a side street where proceedings are less serene; around fifty people are crowded there, all of whom are packing stakes or the v-guns. At the head of this gathering stand our four intrepid generals-Angel, Gunn, Jules and Vince._

GUNN: (_to Angel_) Aren't you gonna…you know, address them?

ANGEL: I don't exactly feel comfortable telling an armed crowd _let's go kick some vampire ass_.

_Without warning, Jules steps forward._

JULES: You know what you have to do. Subterranean squads are with me; split up, lay low, and pick off the runners when things get moving. Tactics are simple-_don't_ engage at close range; that's what these babies (_he holds up a vgun_) were invented for. Pick them off at a safe distance, and while they're busy dissolving from the inside out, move in for the kill, and remember-you _must_ stake, or they'll recover.

ANGEL: Above-ground squads, same basic strategy-except we have to carry the attack, drive them. Half of you are with Vince, other half of you stick close to Gunn and me. Don't waste your ammunition; one or two shots will be enough to take a vamp out of the fight for long enough.

GUNN: Those of you who I've fought with before, you know how I like to do things-my way. No heroes out there, no corpses either. No going nuts, no settling scores, because you'll wind up dead or walking dead. We have the advantage, we have the weapons, we have the numbers. Don't screw this up.

_The crowd are silent. The three speakers exchange slightly uneasy glances._

VINCE: Let's go kick some vampire ass!

CROWD: _YEAHHHHH_!

_As the assembled teams break up and begin to march out, Vince shakes his head at the trio, grinning._

VINCE: Amateurs.

**Act III, Scene IX**

_Devasson's office, the real one again. A Newton's Cradle clacks idly on his desk. He's wearing one of those wraparound phone headsets, and has a faraway look in his eyes which probably means he's waiting-_

DEVASSON: Hello…? Yes, could I speak to Melissa, please? Ah, Cordelia, is that you! Your voice is as delightful over the phone as you are in person. (_laughs_) Oh I know, I know, small wonder I was a failure at the singles game way back when. _Would_ you? Thanks.

_The smile vanishes as he resumes waiting. From a drawer in his desk he produces a crossbow (casually, as if this is something one would expect to find in a piece of office furniture), sights along it at something we cannot see, aims-_

DEVASSON: Melissa!

_He pulls the trigger. The bolt flies from the bow and buries itself in something out of shot…not with a thud, but with a rather wet squelch. Devasson looks mildly nauseated and spins his plush executive swivel chair around to face the office window and the panoramic view of LA._

DEVASSON: Melissa, my dear, you misunderstand the nature of this phone call. Please don't think I'm going to do anything as distasteful as stalk you or some such like-there's altogether too much of that in today's society, it's a sad state of affairs. I just thought you should know something, something I myself learned but a few moments ago from the firm's intelligence division…ah, very amusing, yes…a career in stand-up surely beckons for you, my dear.Well, it seems that your friends and their little attack are in rather a deep amount of trouble. No, no, not from the vampires-that's the funny thing. The provider of the guns and much of the muscle, a Mr. Canon I believe, is rather taken with the idea of turning on your friends as soon as the masses of the undead have been dispatched. You can't get the help these-

_He stops, smiles, and takes off the headset. Melissa has obviously rung off after hearing that news. Devasson breathes in the view of LA for a moment, then turns, manner businesslike once more. We are now able to see his earlier target-a human, suspended from above his office door, his mouth taped over, and now sporting a crossbow bolt from the chest. There is quite a lot of blood. Devasson presses a few buttons on his desk's phone._

DEVASSON: I _did_ say not to fail me, didn't I? Hello, Maintenance? I'm afraid it's happened again…

**Act III, Scene X**

_The inside of the vampire stronghold. It's pretty clear that this place has been occupied for some time by them-there are little homely touches; namely corpses and dried blood on the walls. Around sixty or seventy vampires are present, the majority of which are slumbering-the night, after all, is still in its earliest infancy. A few vamps mill around, kicking the rest into wakefulness with the usual charm of the undead. We see a few humans chained to the walls of the building, gagged. Two vampires walk casually over to them._

VAMP #1: I'm not sure if I should tonight. Takes some of the urgency out of hunting when you've already fed, you know?

VAMP #2: (_nods_) I know what you're saying, man, but as soon as I wake up I got this taste in my mouth…I gotta get someone down me before I can face the night.

VAMP #1: Not an evening person, huh? I was the same myself.

_They walk up the line of humans, hmm-ing thoughtfully with all the manner of two workmates choosing a breakfast in the self-service canteen. The first vamp lifts up the chin of a young woman and tuts to himself, while her terrified wide-open eyes stare back at him, her body trembling uncontrollably._

VAMP #2: She's got a nice amount of fear built up, I'll give her that much. Just hope she's not like the last one.

VAMP #1: Well, that's what you get for being O Negative intolerant.

_Having both chosen their selections, they lean in for the kill…and…at that exact moment…nothing happens. We hear the crunch of necks and the gleeful slurping of blood. The young woman's body spasms and stops, and the feasting vampire raises his head and licks his lips, casting a satisfied glance over at his compatriot._

VAMP #2: That'll get your engine running-

_And at THAT exact moment, at both ends of the warehouse, the doors are blown to smithereens simultaneously, and with roars of challenge the building is invaded. The two vampires, some distance from what has rapidly become the front line of the battle, cast interested glances at each other._

VAMP #1: Just as well they didn't come in twenty seconds ago.

VAMP #2: Yup. I hate killing on empty.

_They sprint to join the meelee. Our point of view switches from them to take in various aspects of the conflict as they unfold. After fanning out to a thin line as soon as they entered the building, the advancing human army has drawn their guns en masse, to the amusement of the vampires now rapidly approaching. We cut back to our two breakfasting vampires, who have now joined the ranks of their brethren._

VAMP #1: _Guns_? Couldn't they afford bits of wood?

VAMP #2: Who cares? I hate getting shot, but turning into dust really pisses me off. (_looks up and down the line of vamps_) Hey, isn't anyone gonna charge these peeps? Oh all right, I'll do it myself…

_He charges…we see Angel shout 'fire!' and the guns begin to blaze. The vampire goes down screaming in agony, his body parts sizzling as the consecrated payload saturates his body from within. He writhes on the floor for a few moments before a well-placed crossbow bolt from one of the troops puts him out his misery._

_The line of vampires take this in. As one, they take a long step back._

ANGEL: Now!

_The guns begin to blaze again, cutting a swathe into the vampire lines. We move quickly to the other side of the warehouse, where a similar story is being played out with Vince's half of the invasion force. Vince, however, has predictably thrown insanity to the wind and broken his lines, charging into the middle of the retreating vamps and using a combination of gun and stake to kill as many as he can. His troops follow suit, causing panic in the undead ranks._

_That's not to say that the humans are getting it all their own way-wherever a vampire can disarm one of their opponents, death usually follows fairly swiftly, and we see a few such wretched victims being quickly terminated with a savage wrench to the neck._

_The vampires are clearly losing ground, but equally the humans are losing ammunition. More and more are pulling triggers to find nothing but empty clicks. The forces are pretty well trained though, and simply drop their guns, switch to stake and crossbow and begin the necessary task of picking off the agonised holy water-filled vamps who now litter the warehouse floor. Clouds of ex-vampire dust begin to whirl in the air._

_Angel, as usual, has forsaken the use of the guns and instead roams the battlefield in a sort of sweeper role, lighting down upon little packs of rebelling vampires who look as if they could pose a threat. As we join him he is doing his usual trick of completely beating the crap out of multiple opponents. Dusting one vamp with a rather swish kick-and-stab combination, he's relieved of having to finish off another by the arrival of Gunn and an accurate crossbow shot. The two take advantage of the momentary hiatus to compare tactical notes._

ANGEL: They're going for the sewers.

GUNN: You gonna say this is too easy?

ANGEL: Nope. Enjoying the novelty.

_They resume the fight. We cut down to Jules in the sewers, who's crouching at the entrance to a side tunnel with around ten or twelve men behind him. Clearly he's by turns excited and intimidated by holding a tenuous command over these people. He raises his head._

JULES: I hear them. They're coming. Wait for my signal.

MAN #1: Yeah, you told us that already.

JULES: Forgive me for wanting to make sure you think before you shoot. It's just that, well…

_He turns around to face them, now sporting full vampire face. The assembled team are taken aback by this, to put it mildly, and stop just short of shooting reflexively (this probably wasn't a wise move by Jules, but he wanted to look cool)._

JULES: …I have my little concerns over how trigger-happy you all get. Here they come; ready! _NOW_!

**Act III, Scene XI**

_The hotel reception. Mel is talking agitatedly to Wesley. Cordelia is nowhere to be seen-maybe she's gone to the bathroom, who knows._

MELISSA: I'm telling you, it's a trap!

WESLEY: And who was this informant, again?

MELISSA: Call him Mr Reliable for all I care! Do _something_! Gunn said this Canon guy couldn't be trusted – he was right! Don't you have anyone you can call? Backup R Us? Jules could be dead by now!

_Wesley ponders for a moment, sending Melissa into a frenzy of impatience._

MELISSA: Why does Angel have his phone turned off, anyway?!

WESLEY: He's a reluctant technology user. Calm down. I have an idea…

_He picks up the phone and dials. It's answered almost instantly._

WESLEY: Grayson, I need your help. Now.

_As he begins to explain the situation, we see Melissa taking the opportunity to exit the hotel as fast as she can. She runs outside to where Wesley has parked his motorbike, and fishes his keys (should we really be surprised?) from her pocket, throttling the machine into life and speeding off._

_Back in reception, Wesley replaces the handset._

WESLEY: …well, I suggest the best thing for us to do is-(_turns, realises what's happened_)-charge onto the scene half-cocked. Damn…

**Act III, Scene XII**

_We see Jules in action against the fleeing vampires. Not used to 'retreat' as a battle plan, they're confused and disorientated, and Jules is taking full advantage by combination of vgun, stake, and some pretty slick Angel-esque moves; all he lacks for the complete package, in fact, is a long coat and gelled hair._

_Cut to outside the building. Canon sits on the hood of his car, flanked by more of his ever-ready heavies. He's wearing a headset and has one hand cupped to his ear, listening intently._

_Back in the sewers, Jules is in a momentary spot of trouble – a vampire knocks the vgun from his grasp and leaps on him, knocking him painfully to the tunnel floor. The pair wrestle desperately, fiercely for supremacy for a few moments, before a brief instant in which the assailant catches sight of Jules' demonised features. The vampire blinks in shock and what looks like fear._

VAMPIRE: Angel?

_Jules twists, retrieves his stake and brings it crashing up through the creature's ribcage from below, spearing the heart. The vampire grunts softly once, and flies apart without further fuss._

JULES: Close.

_A little way away, one of the humans too is wearing a small wraparound cranial device. She's watching the events unfold, stopping only in her passive vigil to ruthlessly cut down an escaping vampire with a few economical vgun shots._

ALICE: Count three remaining vamps down here, sir. Cleanup should be over in a matter of minutes.

_She's talking to Canon, and it's he who we cut to now._

CANON: Excellent. Above-ground squads report a similar story. You can ditch first stage weapons and progress to second stage when-

ALICE: Sir, one of the vamps is on our side…

CANON: Angel's down there with you? (_mulls this over_) Good, good…

_Inside the building, Angel (the genuine article) and Canon are working on dusting a couple of vamps. The battle is short as we might expect, but we see another headset-sporting human nod meaningfully to the scattered combatants, most of whom (Vince's men excluded, obviously) acknowledge the signal in silence. There is the repeated thud of discarded vguns dropping to the floor, even as a still adrenaline-rushed Vince jogs up to Angel and Gunn._

ANGEL: Your people all right?

VINCE: AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!!! WE KICKED THEIR ASS!!

_Behind him, resisting the urge to cup their ears, the men Canon so generously donated have reached into their combat fatigues and produced guns which look suspiciously unmodified. Gunn and Vince are busy high-fiving; Vince even urges Angel to high-five…unsuccessfully. Angel raises an 'I'll add that to my list of things I don't do' eyebrow. We cut outside to Canon, who is grinning thinly._

CANON: Never look a Trojan horse in the mouth, boys…fire!

_Inside, shots ring out. Angel flings out an arm and floors Vince and Gunn just as the ambush from within begins. All three dive headlong for cover behind an abandoned vehicle which had previously been used to confine captured humans. In other parts of the warehouse, Vince's people are not so lucky; screams and cries of outrage and pain punctuate the air as thickly as gunshots. Angel fights to restrain a crazed Vince, all but insane with anger, from joining the one-sided fray._

VINCE: NO!! YOU BASTARDS!! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!!

GUNN: Vince, Chrissakes, you'll last five seconds out there!

VINCE: THEY'RE MY PEOPLE! THIS IS MY FAULT!

_He catches Angel with an elbow to the head hard enough to make Angel release his grip, stunned. Vince makes to stand. At that moment two of Canon's goons burst into view. Vince roars in anger and pumps bullets into both of them, causing them to stagger back…a little…and not much else._

_Vince looks down in utter betrayal at his gun and realises that it is a vgun – close to lethal against vampires yes, but nothing more than a nuisance to humans. Somewhere deep down we know that Vince is recalling that night when he practically drooled in Canon's face about these toys, and now the real reason for the gangland boss' generosity has been revealed._

_Gunn tries to drag him back by the ankle, but Vince charges blindly, overcome with rage and the need to exact revenge. He is cut down by a hail of bullets, dead before his lifeless body impacts the warehouse floor. Gunn lets loose an anguished cry of his own, and now must be restrained by Angel._

ANGEL: He's gone. Don't follow him.

GUNN: (_through clenched teeth_) Double-crossing son of a bitch…what can I do?! I've got a goddam popgun here! (_he waves the vgun_)

_In response, Angel's features flow and coalesce and harden from the soft lines of his human visage to the bumpy contours of his demonic incarnation. His expression, that of the grimmest determination and more than a faint trace of simmering rage, does not flicker for a moment, however._

ANGEL: Funny – I'm still armed.

_As a new pair of gun-toting former allies appear, Angel goes into overdrive, knowing that anything less will mean Gunn's death, and probably his. He leaps full-speed and full-length, catching both men at neck height. As they sprawl on the deck, their heads twisted at awkward angles, Angel throws out a leg and kicks a discarded pistol over to Gunn, who scoops it up from the floor aims and fires point-blank in a single movement, downing another two attackers who had just sprung loose. He ducks down behind the car again as bullets fly from the remainder in retaliation, joined there seconds later by Angel._

GUNN: How's it look?

ANGEL: I count twenty, fanning out to flank us. Maybe thirty seconds before that happens, none of them want to be heroes.

GUNN: (_grunts_) 'Bad' woulda done me.

_Down below in the sewers, the conflict over with the fleeing vampires, Jules is listening to the sound of chaotic gunfire from above, frowning._

JULES: Sounds different to before-

_The woman we saw earlier-Alice, one of Canon's most decorated street generals-takes this as her cue to nod to the rest of her complement. We see the lightning-quick exchange of weapons, from everyone except her; she alone retains her vgun._

_After an infinitesimal pause, a second nod from her begins the firing. Vince's representatives are cut down mercilessly before they have a chance to realise what has happened, most of them shot in the back._

_Jules spins around, takes in what has happened…and freezes. All traces of his former pseudo-Angel persona vanish. He stares wide-eyed from body to body, corpse to corpse, even as their blood turns the sewer water red. Vampires don't leave behind dead bodies. It's clear he's in deep shock, and very terrified._

JULES: …oh, no…(_weakly_)…please, no…

_Alice approaches him, a vgun pointed at his torso. She's the epitome of calm. _

ALICE: There's someone who wants to speak to you.

_Back inside the building, the advancing humans have almost completely flanked the hiding place of Angel and Gunn, who are still crouching where last we saw them, given their rather extensive lack of other options._

GUNN: Tell me you have a plan, right?

ANGEL: Hey, at least _you_ can make your peace with God.

_Rather aptly, God chooses that moment to grant divine intervention, in the shape of two vans, which roar into the building from each entrance simultaneously at top speed, scattering Canon's men and wrecking their careful advance. One of the vans pulls up against the (now bullet-ridden) car; from its interior pour yet more heavily armed and well-equipped troops…and, sporting a Kevlar body armour jacket and a pretty large rifle, Wesley._

_He fires a quick covering burst at Canon's troops (now desperately seeking cover as a new and rather more rounded gunbattle begins). Gunn and Angel, moments ago certain that they were going to die, cast pretty disbelieving looks at each other. Then at Wesley._

WESLEY: Come on!

_Not needing to be told twice, despite their measure of shock, both fugitives dive for the relative safety of the van. Wesley joins them inside, after taking the time to fire off another volley in the direction of the opposite end of the warehouse (he is, most assuredly, definitely enjoying himself). _

WESLEY: Both of you – all right? Shot?

GUNN: (_reflexively_) No, sir.

WESLEY: (_hollers_) Everyone back in the vans! Let's move the hell out! (_to Angel_) Where's Jules?

_Angel is horrified at the question. Clearly, in a time of crisis, his routine reverted to worrying about Gunn and Wesley, with Cordelia already isolated and safe. We can see an agonised flash of guilt pass over his face._

ANGEL: Still down below.

WESLEY: That'll be where Melissa is headed.

_The Council forces have now made their way back to the vans, battling furiously all of the way. Fresh bodies litter the carnage-ridden floor; ironically, given the purpose of this mission, not a single vampire corpse can be seen, impossible a sight though it is. Outside, we can hear the sound of many, many police sirens wailing closer._

_Angel grabs Wesley by the arm as the van exits the building at high speed._

ANGEL: Melissa?

WESLEY: We're running out of time.

**Act III, Scene XIII**

_Canon is scowling furiously as reports of the turning of the tide in battle trickle through to him via his headset._

CANON: Wolfram & Hart, I presume. (_adjusts frequency_) Oh well…how's the prisoner holding up?

_We cut to the sewers. Jules is being pushed unceremoniously along, his arms being held back by two burly heavies, while Alice covers him cautiously with the vgun at all times. She taps her headset to reply._

ALICE: Angel is secure, sir. He'll be with you in moments.

_Jules starts at this revelation of mistaken identity, a reaction which he quickly buries and suppresses for fear of what revealing the truth might bring. As the captive party round a bend in the tunnels, we hear a low scraping from the ceiling of the stretch of tunnel they have just vacated. A few seconds later a shape drops from the streets above as quietly as possible. It is Melissa. She holds the vgun Angel left with Wesley at the hotel (having stopped to pilfer more than simply his motorbike keys) tightly against her chest. Hearing footfalls and Alice's voice from up ahead, she begins moving as stealthily as possible in pursuit._

MELISSA: What the hell am I doing…

_Back to Jules._

JULES: Who, exactly, are we going to see?

ALICE: None of your concern, vampire.

JULES: Oh come on-how am I gonna know if its worth my while making an escape attempt or not?

ALICE: That all depends on whether you want to be delivered in an ashtray or not. I'm not into this witty kidnapper / hostage banter thing, OK? Just shut up and walk.

_We cut back to Melissa, creeping along behind, trying her best not to faint with terror. Jules' head lifts suddenly, and he sniffs the air. He risks a furtive glance behind the group, back in the direction Melissa is approaching from. Obviously the keen vampire senses have alerted him._

JULES: You, uh, you don't date much do you?

_Alice nods to one of the heavies holding Jules' arms. The pressure is duly increased to almost bone-crushing level, causing Jules to groan with pain._

ALICE: I did warn you. Besides; dating? Coming from the notorious Angel? (_snorts_)

MELISSA: (_whispers_) Jules? How good is your hearing?

JULES: Very good.

ALICE: Thanks. I thought so. Now shut up.

MELISSA: (_still in a whisper inaudible to all save him_) Jules, what do I do? I've only got a anti-vampire weapon here, and they're taking you to see Canon-

JULES: Canon?!

ALICE: Quite the detective, aren't we.

JULES: This is about m…this is about the pair I was hiding, right?

ALICE: (_threateningly_) One more word.

MELISSA: Jules, there's no time! Canon will kill you! I have to do something, now!

JULES: No!

_It's too late. Melissa bounds forward from further back along the tunnel and squeezes off a few potshots with the vgun, all of which go hopelessly wide. They do, however, succeed in sufficiently distracting Alice to swing her weapon away from pointing at Jules for a moment. Jules takes full advantage by roaring in effort and slamming his two captives together by bringing his arms around, stunning both men._

_Alice shoots him, twice. He screams in agony, clutching his right arm and thigh. As she's about to lunge with a stake and finish the job, though, Alice is abruptly knocked flying by a vengeful Melissa._

_We cut to outside. Canon is listening to the chaos being piped through to him via Alice's wraparound headset. He leaps up from his reclining position on the hood of the car and beckons his minders to follow, which they were doing anyway._

CANON: Let's go.

_In the sewers, Melissa has managed to land on top of Alice, and is giving her quite a substantial pounding, so rushed with fear and adrenaline that she's close to tears as she makes each punch. Jules clutches at his injured limbs tenderly, clearly in great pain. His skin is raw and red where the sanctified liquid has taken its acidic toll. He totters unsteadily over to Melissa._

MELISSA: Don't you (_punch_) ever, EVER (_punch_) shoot my boyfriend again, YOU HEAR ME?!

_Jules pauses on his way to take a quick detour; one of the men he stunned appears to be coming around. A quick lash to the head with a well-placed foot puts paid to that recovery attempt._

JULES: Mel…I think she's (_coughs_) no longer a danger.

_Alice is indeed very, very unconscious. Melissa stops her attack, this fact penetrating to her at last. She flings herself on Jules, kissing him tenderly with abject relief, and looking with concern at his wounded skin. Noting her worry, Jules tries to paper over the anxiety with a watery grin._

JULES: I'll live. (_pause_) You know what I mean. Mel, what the hell are you _doing_ here, anyway?

_Melissa helps him walk more steadily as they move further along the sewer tunnels, putting some distance between them and their comatose ex-captors._

MELISSA: Heard Canon was involved, heard he was planning an ambush. I couldn't get this picture out of my head of losing you. So here I am, saving your ass. Dammit Jules; didn't I _tell_ you that you're not a superhero?

JULES: They (_he coughs in slight pain_) thought I was Angel.

MELISSA: Please. How many vampires are there in the world are there who are happy killing their own kind? (_suspiciously_) You sounded _pleased_.

JULES: I was.

MELISSA: He almost got you killed!

JULES: I don't think the part where Canon started butchering his former allies was part of Angel's plan, Mel. He was set up.

MELISSA: (_mockingly_) He was 'set up'. It wasn't 'part of his plan'. I thought this guy was supposed to be hero here? Where is he now?

CANON: That's what I'd like to know.

_He steps from the shadows of the tunnel up ahead, along with the three minders who had flanked him on the street above, and a wide smile that threatens to bisect his face in two like cheesewire if it gets any thinner. Melissa whimpers in fear, unable to contain it. Jules stares balefully back, silent and grim._

CANON: Hi, kids. Long time.

JULES: (_quietly, firmly_) Mel, stand behind me. Now, Mel, do it.

_Shaking, she complies. Canon watches this display with great interest._

CANON: Well. That's new. I see you two have finally stopped being coy and denying the oh-so-obvious sexual chemistry between each other. Aw…sweet.

JULES: Did you pull the trigger yourself?

CANON: I'm sorry?

JULES: On the old couple you had butchered. Did you do it? No. You got these guys to do it, didn't you. Always one step removed, right?

CANON: Well, not these guys personally per se…but why argue.

_His tone chills markedly._

CANON: If you and your beloved here had performed your task properly, the old dears, bless their little hearts, might not have ended up quite as spectacularly dead. Oh, and speaking of quite as dead…

_He raises a vgun and empties a shot into Jules' right leg. A puff of vaporised holy water escapes from beneath the skin. Jules cries out in pain and sinks to his knees momentarily, but rises again, teeth gritted, refusing Melissa's helping hands. He spreads his arms backwards to cover her protectively, shielding her as best he can, his face now metamorphosed to full demonic mode._

CANON: The little boy's becoming a man. Admittedly an undead, bloodsucking man, but hey…Kudos to you nonetheless.

JULES: Let her go.

MELISSA: Jules, dammit, no!

JULES: I'm already dead.

_Melissa sobs and clutches at him tightly, overcome with terror and unable to accept the sacrifice Jules is prepared to make on her behalf._

MELISSA: Not to me.

CANON: Oh, my noble hero.

_Ignoring Canon and the situation, Jules risks death by turning slightly away from the group of antagonists and cupping Mel's face with his hands. He smiles at her._

JULES: You hear what he called me?

MELISSA: (_through her tears_) You were always mine.

CANON: Oh, get a room. I'm killing you both, in case there was any lingering doubts about that. Much as I'd love to see this immensely touching farewell scene continue.

JULES: Touch her and I'll snap you in half.

_The words echo slightly around the tunnel walls. It's not so much what was spoken but the manner in which Jules said it which causes the ensuing deathly, deadly silence. Jules uttered the threat without blinking an eye, and yet the sentiment had a strange backbone of concrete to it that Canon clearly sensed. He seems unnerved, but quickly buries the emotion beneath an equally genuine flare of anger._

CANON: Why don't you just _die_, you little f-

_He fires. An instant before he pulls the trigger, Melissa utilises her new sidelong position to put herself between Jules and Canon. The modified payload strikes her in the upper abdomen, causing her to gasp deeply with lost wind and pain. The holy water steams harmlessly from her clothes, having none of the devastating acidic effects it would have had on Jules. She just saved him a hell of a lot of agony. She glances back at Jules and impatiently blocks his effort to reverse their positions._

MELISSA: Don't be stupid; these guns only bruise humans, remember? I should have been the one protecting you. (_smiles briefly_) For once.

_They begin to move backwards._

CANON: Smart girl, as always.

_He drops the vgun and produces a real pistol_.

CANON: Wonder how this will work?

_He fires._

_Melissa drops to the tunnel floor._

_Jules stares down at her limp form for a moment, as we slow down the proceedings. Water splashes up from where her body impacted. As he stares, blood begins to stain the water crimson, seeping out from where she lies in a thickening pool._

_Canon fires again._

_The bullet causes Jules to stagger backward, some of his own blood spraying out from a fresh hole in his chest. It doesn't seem to cause him the amount of pain that the vgun is capable of delivering…but that may also be down in no small part to his current mental state. Canon reaches for the vgun he dropped a moment earlier._

_Jules moves._

_A blur of pure hatred and rage, screaming at the top of his lungs in sorrow, grief, and anger, he kicks the vgun from Canon's grasp as the gangland boss tries to bring it to bear. Jules is immediately tackled by all three minders, the force of their direct frontal assault propelling all three back along the tunnel._

_Canon exhales slowly. We stay with him and hear only the sounds of struggling from further down as he bends down once more to retrieve the weapon. As he locates it and wraps his hand around the barrel, there is a series of cracks, loud cracks. One. Two. Three. And then nothing but silence._

_Canon freezes._

_The hand holding the vgun is shaking as he stands up and turns around to take in the battle he turned his back on. His three former employees, huge men all, are scattered along the sewer wall and floor, their necks at hideous angles, heads lolling, eyes vacant. And walking towards him, seeming to fill the tunnel from floor to ceiling, is Jules, looking like the Reaper itself, growling and snarling, his yellow eyes burning, his fangs bared. All trace of human restraint, all trace of humanity, is gone from his expression._

_Canon backs off, eyes wide with unabashed terror at the sight of this creature. He raises the vgun as quickly as he can…and isn't nearly fast enough. Jules is upon him in a heartbeat, dealing him a brutal blow to the head. The vgun clatters to the floor as its former wielder slams against the tunnel wall, crazed with panic and sobbing in terror, looking to the skies._

CANON: …ohGod…Jesus Mary, holy mother…ohGod…dear Lord in heaven, help me, please, please God…

_Jules stops in his relentless advance, bare inches from the cowering Canon, to stare again for a timeless moment at the unmoving form of Melissa, crumpled up in a bloody heap. He turns to Canon, his fangs gleaming and exposed. _

JULES: You want God's help?

_In reply, Canon only gibbers in fear._

JULES: Go ask him for it.

_That said, he grabs Canon by the throat and brings his canines to bear on his neck. We hear the crunch of vertebrae and the multiple snapping of a larynx, even as Jules feeds. Canon's eyes roll back in his head, and his arms and legs spasm once, briefly, before coming to a limp stop._

_Jules continues to feed for a second longer, then allows the body to drop, taking his hand away from Canon's ruined, collapsed neck and throat. The corpse splashes to the floor. Jules mouth is stained red, and as we watch, a huge and powerful sobbing convulsion wracks his entire body. He sinks to his knees…_

MELISSA: …Jules…

_Before the second syllable is fully formed he is by her side, blinking away the tears cried but an instant before in wonder, breathing quickly in his excitement. She gazes up at him, her eyes dim. He inspects her wound, and we see he's dismayed by what he finds. Still without speaking, she presses her fingers to her wound before he can stop her. Coughing in agony and with her arm shaking in effort, she raises the crimson-topped fingers to his mouth._

_Jules rears back, in realisation of what she is asking._

MELISSA: Save me. Have me. Please-

_Her eyes close softly. Tears streaming once again freely down his cheeks, Jules closes his own eyes and raises his face to the skies…before bowing his head to her neck._

_Another feeding is in progress._

**Act III, Scene XIV**

_The interior of the van which holds Angel, Wesley, Gunn, and numerous Watcher's Council troops. Angel is seized immediately by another vision from the Powers That Be, and falls, his hands pressed to his head in agony._

_In the usual chaotic rush of images which follow, we see glimpses of what has just transpired in the sewers with Jules and Melissa._

_The vision fades as quickly as it begun, leaving Angel gasping for breath while Wesley and Gunn try to steady him._

GUNN: What now? What'd you see?

ANGEL: We're too late.

_We cut to the sewers. Jules brings Melissa's numb lips up to the bullet wound in his chest, and ensures that some of his blood is passed to her. Red liquid drops from his own fangs onto the top of her head._

_Back to Angel._

ANGEL: We're always too late…

**Act III, Scene XV**

_The Karaoke Bar – Caritas – in full swing. We pan across the clientele, who are of the usual multifarious extractions. Lorne is regarding the scene with something approaching contentment from the bar, sipping at a spectacularly coloured cocktail of indeterminate origin._

_A few shouts rise above the normal din of exulting musical demons. Lorne frowns and turns in the direction of the disturbance; by the entrance doors. There are two more brief cries of challenge before one of the doormen, all two hundred-odd pounds of him, comes flying through into the bar and slides to an unconscious halt._

HOST: That rules out the health inspection.

_He gets off his chair and gesticulates to his staff to get the matter in hand as the demons begin to mutter in alarm. Approaching the doorway rather cautiously, he's met by Jules, who's carrying the body of Melissa in his arms. Lorne takes this in with a long look, meeting Jules' silent plea. The remainder of the doormen burst into the bar and are about to try to bring Jules to heel again…_

HOST: Leave him. (_snaps_) I said leave him. You, get Tony some ice for that bump on his noggin. Oh, see if we have a shaman in the audience. A real one this time.

_He places a hand on Jules' shoulder._

HOST: Let's get her someplace safe.

_We cut to a room, presumably in the interior of the Caritas compound. Melissa's form now rests upon a luxurious bed quilted in purple velvet (the Hosts' own, who knows?). Jules is by her side, one hand on her cheek, the other clutching one of hers. The Host enters the room, carrying a small leather bag._

JULES: What-

HOST: Don't worry, soldier.

_He plucks a crystal sphere from the inside of the bag (it should look more or less identical to the one Wesley used in Act 3, Scene 2) and places it on the table by the bedside. Melissa does not move a muscle. Jules regards the sphere with suspicion, but obviously does not want to press the matter. Lorne stands nearby to him and folds his arms, eventually provoking Jules to turn from his vigil._

JULES: What?

HOST: Call me pessimistic, but I don't think you're likely to burst into song about whatever happened here kiddo. So you're gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way, and just tell me from the beginning.

JULES: She got shot.

HOST: Is _that_ where those bullet holes came from?

_Jules' features morph into his demonic side. He snarls at Lorne, who backs off._

HOST: OK, easy on the sarcasm, reading you loud and clear on that one. Just excuse me for being a little impatient, but I get enough of the taciturn titan pastiche from your landlord. Quit drip-feeding me here.

JULES: I don't feel like talking about it.

HOST: Should I phone Angel, and see if he knows?

_He leaps backward slightly after saying this, as if expecting another snarl, or perhaps worse from Jules. Neither is forthcoming. The young man simply slumps his shoulders and leans closer to Melissa. When he speaks, his voice is low and hushed._

JULES: Don't do that.

HOST: Did she ask you to do it?

JULES: Yes. And I should have said no.

HOST: You'd have watched her die.

JULES: It would have been better than killing her.

HOST: Better! Try telling that to the echo of that thumper in your chest. Love isn't about what's better or worse, or even what's right. If you can stop and weigh up the pros and cons – newsflash – you're married.

JULES: How did you know she - ?

HOST: (_imitating someone singing_) It's not something I put on the posters to attract customers. You do remember knocking everyone out, opening your soul…

_Jules' slumped shoulders straighten. He stares at Lorne with a dangerous expression._

JULES: You _knew_ this was going to happen?

HOST: Hey, hey! Reading destinies doesn't work in terms of knowing. Just because I glimpse a map of your life doesn't mean I can navigate every square inch. All I knew was that sleeping beau-

_Melissa springs to abrupt life, begins choking, retching. Lorne sandwiches himself to the wall in shock, clutching his chest. Jules watches her fight the incredible surges of power surging through her in silence, emotions running through his expression one after the other. He keeps a grip on her hand throughout as her breathing slowly, surely, returns to normal. Sweat sits out in beads on her forehead. Her eyes open from tightly shut against the pain to slivers, to fully exposed to the world._

JULES: …Melissa…?

_Melissa slowly rises from her reclining position until her upper body is vertical. She takes in the sight of Jules and a huge grin spreads across her face._

MELISSA: Jules!

_They embrace, muttering things to each other. While this is going on, Lorne quietly picks up the crystal ball and brings it closer to the pair, his face set in intent._

_Before he can bring the ball too close, however, Melissa's right hand snakes out and clamps him by the wrist. She has accomplished this without looking up from hugging Jules. Lorne gasps in pain. The embrace ends._

MELISSA: I could _hear_ your hand moving…

HOST: (_tensely, pained_) While I still have my piano-playing bones intact, please?

JULES: Mel, let him go.

MELISSA: What is this thing? Oh…a soul-detector. Cool.

_She squeezes Lorne's wrist a little harder. With a yelp of anguish he drops the ball, squarely into her outstretched left hand. She turns it over idly in her grip, releasing Lorne almost as an afterthought. He rubs his arm resentfully._

MELISSA: Isn't this thing supposed to…

_On cue, there is a white pulse from the ball. Melissa grins. Jules is astonished, as, we see, is Lorne himself._

JULES: But – that means you have a soul?

HOST: You passed it on.

MELISSA: Yep, guess so. Anyone Angel sires retains their soul because, hey, he's got one too. Makes sense for the same rules to apply to you.

_She lifts up her bloodied jumper and watches in awe as her bullet wounds begin to visibly shrink, cauterise and close. The whole process takes about ten seconds, after which she gingerly touches the exposed skin, and feels no pain._

MELISSA: Is this not so unbelievably amazing, I ask you! Jules! Me and you, kid, laughing in the face of bullets from now on!

_She bounds from the bed and kicks out with a foot, putting a hole clean through the wall. Not stopping for a moment, she bends down and peers through it, into the Karaoke Bar. We cut to there, and a few rather taken aback demons looking at her from their now-covered-in-concrete table. She giggles._

HOST: Much as I appreciate the Xena-antics… Stop. Now.

JULES: Mel…

MELISSA: Oh, lighten up! I was dead five minutes ago!

JULES: You're still dead.

MELISSA: (_dismissively_) Dead, undead, alive, who cares? It's a lot more fun than lying bleeding in some sewer. Which reminds me…you _did_ kill that bastard, yeah?

_Jules flinches. Lorne watches this intently, but says nothing. Melissa frowns in puzzlement at Jules' recalcitrance._

JULES: Yeah.

MELISSA: Go, Jules! Big up! We're in the clear, sweetheart!

_She squeals with delight and spins him around, hugging him tightly. Letting him go, she turns, still enthused with happiness, and contemplates Lorne for a second. He stares back at her, eyes widening in alarm._

HOST: Wh-oooof…

_He too is caught up in a tight hug. Smiling weakly, he pats Melissa on the back, before taking his arms and more or less bodily forcing her from him. Smiling in a tolerant way, he regards the pair of young vampires._

HOST: I'm thrilled for you and the whole 'being alive' thing. Really. But if you think this is the finishing post in the race, boys and girls, think again. This is a big thing; you've got to stand there and decide, both of you, what it is you want to do now. And don't make the snap choice. What you do now-

MELISSA: (_raises a hand_) Er?

HOST: (_sighs_) Yes, the vampire at the back.

MELISSA: Can we, um, just go out and dance?

_Beat_.

HOST: And that's the plan, is it?

MELISSA: I might improvise a bit of groping, but that's the basics.

JULES: I second this plan.

**Act III, Scene XVI**

_At the hotel, music is playing pretty loudly from a stereo in reception. Cordelia comes out from the office, dancing merrily to the tune. She's got the definite air of the 'home alone' girl kicking back – her hair is in the midst of some modifications, there's a plate of crisps on the counter, and a huge glossy magazine lies beside them. She switches between quick snatches of unashamed grooving, quasi-guilty snacking and open-mouthed envious reading (it's probably a fashion magazine). As we watch, she begins picking out the models with a finger._

CORDELIA: Am I better looking than….you…yep…you…yep…ooh, I am _so_ much thinner than her…eating disorder, surgery, tramp…

_Screech of tires from outside. Cordelia looks up in an 'I knew this was going to happen' way, turns off the stereo, stows the bowl of crisps under the counter and tucks the magazine under a few case files. She runs a hand through her hair as footsteps and general commotion approach the front doors._

_As they are flung open, we go into super slow-motion and have very dramatic music heralding the entrance of our returning heroes, i.e. Angel and Gunn. Wesley is as yet nowhere to be seen. We cut to Cordelia, who's looking pretty nonchalant about the whole business. _

ANGEL: Calls?

CORDELIA: Not a one.

GUNN: Dammit!

_He throws his weapons down, frustrated. Angel goes straight to the telephone and begins dialling. Cordelia purses her lips, obviously waiting for an explanation. Gunn kicks out at the wall in frustration – more or less exactly like Melissa did in Caritas, the only difference being that Melissa didn't suppress a yelp of pain._

CORDELIA: So…

ANGEL: (_on the phone_) Lorne?

CORDELIA: What's going on? Anyone?

_Wesley enters the hotel at this point, looking suitably grim about the world. Cordelia starts in surprise to see him._

CORDELIA: There you are! I turn my back for five seconds and you're out of here!

ANGEL: (_still on the phone_) Yes, I'll hold…

WESLEY: Did either of them come back?

CORDELIA: Either of…?

WESLEY: Jules or Melissa!

CORDELIA: Okay, enough with the comedy confusion, what is going on?

ANGEL: Melissa left the hotel.

WESLEY: There was a double-cross at the ambush.

GUNN: We got separated from Jules.

ANGEL: They were attacked.

WESLEY: Angel had a vision.

GUNN: Of Melissa. She's been sired.

ANGEL: By Jules.

WESLEY: To save her life.

GUNN: We don't know where they are now.

ANGEL: Yes we do. (_into phone_) We're on our way. Make sure they don't leave.

_Replacing the phone in the cradle, he sweeps out without another word, Wesley and Gunn close on his heels. The doors close. We stay on Cordelia, who looks, to breathtakingly understate matters, stunned._

_Abruptly, she comes to her senses, and charges out from behind the desk in pursuit of the disappearing trio._

**Act III, Scene XVII**

_Wolfram & Hart – Devasson's Office. He's in a meeting with two unseen others, and the camera faces him. Adorning his expensive executives' desk are the usual array of accessories; a laptop computer, small piles of white paper, and the archetypal executive toy – a Newton's cradle, which is in motion._

DEVASSON: In the space of one night, we have managed to rid ourselves not only of the surplus vampire population of that part of the city, but also the more unsavoury element, in the form of the late Mr. Joseph Canon. May he rot in peace.

_Pause. Devasson smiles broadly, but we sense he's just a little nervous beneath his normal unflappable exterior._

_The cradle seems to be clacking faster._

DEVASSON: Of course, those are only the short-term gains. Our more invested goals are still securely in place, rest assured.

_The left chair creaks. Devasson licks his lips. When the voice emanates, it has the texture and warmth of slabs of granite breakdancing._

VOICE #1: The Watcher's Council are here.

DEVASSON: Ah…indeed they are. On schedule, I may add.

VOICE #1: You expected this?

DEVASSON: They do have extensive contacts. Their appearance here was inevitable, especially with the signs so clearly stated. It's under control.

_The cradle has now definitely picked up speed, impossible though this is. The increase in noise level has been enough to alert Devasson to this, and every few seconds his eyes helplessly flit to the kinetic ballet._

VOICE #1: Admirable confidence.

DEVASSON: At your service. I'm only privileged that the Senior Partners thought me worthy to oversee –

VOICE #1: We did not select you.

DEVASSON: Ah?

VOICE #1: (_slowly, with malicious intent_) You were appointed from Ground Level. I'm sure it was because they had confidence in you. And not, perhaps, because they thought you expendable in the face of failure.

_The cradle is in chaos. Devasson says nothing._

VOICE #1: The uongy'tenre is very important to the Senior Partners. Weak and foolish though the humans of the Watcher's Council are, they have been working against us for centuries. They should not be underestimated. All has come to pass – the three candidates exist.

DEVASSON: Yes, but surely Angel - ?

VOICE #1: Nothing is certain. Remember that. (_pause_) My apologies for my companion. I think he needs to vent a little steam. I'd advise you to duck.

_Devasson hurls himself under his desk. We cut to an outside shot of the W & H building, just as most of an entire floor is annihilated in a fireball of exploding glass and metal. As we stay on the building, two silhouettes detach themselves from the debris cloud and plummet to the surface below…passing right through._

**Act III, Scene XVIII**

_En route to Caritas, everyone is packed into the back of the Watcher's Council van, the same vehicle used to effect the rescue of Angel and Gunn from the ill-fated assault on the vampire stronghold._

_More to the point, most of the Watcher's Council troops are still in there. An awkward silence prevails, and is broken from a predictable source._

CORDELIA: Who the hell are these guys? Was there a garage sale on private armies?

WESLEY: Watcher's Council.

CORDELIA: And this is OK with everyone?

GUNN: (_shrugs_) It's been that kinda week.

WESLEY: Angel, there's something I have to discuss with you. Soon.

ANGEL: (_glancing around_) I figured as much.

GUNN: Some protector I turned out to be.

ANGEL: Wasn't your fault.

GUNN: Never said it wasn't yours either.

WESLEY: Stop this, both of you. There's a very real possibility that the same process we witnessed when Angel sired Jules is still in effect. Besides, wherever Melissa is now, Jules is bound to be with her. He knows the difference between right and wrong.

ANGEL: She's got a hold over him, Wes.

CORDELIA: Hey! Mel's not a bad kid.

GUNN: You don't know her like I do.

CORDELIA: And maybe you don't _understand_ her like I do. All her life she's been on the bottom rung, without really knowing why. The only thing she wants is –

GUNN: Payback.

CORDELIA: - a _chance_. If she's a vampire now, a regular vamp, then fine, mourn for her. If she's not…then we just have to hope Virginia's demon hunters have like, bonanza day or something. It's not the end of the –

_She trails off, reacting to the 'don't even think about it' expressions of the other three._

CORDELIA: (_musingly_) When the workmates didn't let her talk about doomsday in case she jinxed the night's work, Cordelia _knew_ it was time for a career change…

**Act III, Scene XIX**

_Caritas. Melissa and Jules are in the midst of a full-blown melee on the dancefloor. It's not the slow, painstaking movement of, say, Angel and Buffy back in their Bronze heyday – this should remind us a lot more of what it might have been like had Faith and Spike ever gotten together…_

_Lorne is watching from his usual vantage point, a drink in hand. He knocks back a long draught and shivers as he continues to take in the scene, clearly uneasy at some aspect of what is being played out before him._

_A hand taps his shoulder. He turns, and we see that the hand belongs to the girl whom Jules rescued in Act IV, Scene 11, Charly. She's dressed to kill._

HOST: Oh, not you again.

CHARLY: (_sticking out her tongue_) Me again. Is he here?

_Lorne casts a furtive glance over to where Melissa and Jules are dancing._

HOST: How many times, kiddo? Move on. Plenty more non-fangy fish in the sea. Find yourself a nice boyfriend. A nice, _alive_ boyfriend. Am I getting through here? I don't wanna have to bar you.

CHARLY: Bar me! For what?

HOST: Much as I hate to rain on your genetic parade, you're not technically a demon, are ya? They tend to be a little heavier on the weaponry and mutation. And wear less push-up bras.

CHARLY: Oh my God! There he is!

_She waves to Jules, who doesn't see her. Before Lorne can stop her she rushes forward into the crowd. He looks after her for a moment, sighs, and turns back._

HOST: Tom, hit me. And don't spare the worm.

_We move to follow Charly as she pushes herself bodily (and there's quite a lot of bodily she can use to help herself here) through the heaving masses until she's reached her target. Jules gives her a momentary glance, but doesn't recognise her. He and Melissa are, to put it mildly, pretty wrapped up in one another._

CHARLY: It's you! Oh God! I thought I'd never see you again!

_She moves to tap him on the shoulder. Without looking back, Melissa snakes out an arm and clamps the other girl's wrist like a vice. Seeing this, Jules frowns and stops dancing. He looks closer at Charly and a flash of realisation hits._

JULES: Mel, let her go. It's…Charly, right?

MELISSA: You _know_ her?

_She releases her with an air of reluctance. Charly glares at her with open hostility._

CHARLY: He saved my life a few nights ago.

JULES: (_smiling_) Yeah. Mel, you remember, I told you –

MELISSA: Yeah. Well, all part of the service. Now be somewhere else.

CHARLY: I – I was just hoping I could thank you –

_Melissa leans closer, her tone now fairly dripping with menace._

MELISSA: Fresh outa hope over here. Thanks anyway. Be. Someplace. Else.

JULES: Mel, relax.

MELISSA: I will not –

_Ignoring her, Jules steps forward and shakes Charly's hand, smiling awkwardly. Behind him, Melissa is fairly seething. The situation is not improved when the other girl, unable to help herself, turns the handshake into a full-blown hug. Jules manages to extricate himself from the embrace hurriedly, casting one split-second warning glance over his shoulder to prevent Melissa from doing anything rash._

_Melissa merely smiles, beatifically._

JULES: So, you know, generally be a bit more careful around the streets at night. I can't be there every time.

CHARLY: (_adoringly_) I will. You can't. I know. You're right.

JULES: Uh huh. So, thanks again, and…see you around.

_He turns away, back to Melissa. Charly stares at them for a moment, sighs, and walks back through the crowd. We cut back to the Host, who's been watching these events intently, obviously expecting the worst. He addresses the off-camera barman, but we get the impression he's really talking to himself._

HOST: Whew. That coulda been worse. My ticker's going so fast I'm darn near bouncing off this stool, I tell ya.

_Back to the couple. In a break between songs, they pull apart from a kiss long enough for Jules to cast a slight frown at his companion._

JULES: What was all that about?

MELISSA: All that?

JULES: Mel…

MELISSA: (_sighs_) Oh, all right. I hold my hands up (_does so_) bad attack of the little green monster, my fault entirely, begging your forgiveness. She was pretty…

JULES: (_in an everso sincere puzzled voice_) Was she?

MELISSA: Ooh, who's a well-trained boyfriend!

_They share a laugh – relieved, on Jules' part, and go back to the business in hand. Charly has reached the bar again. We see Melissa, her head resting on Jules' left shoulder, watching her intently. She smiles slowly._

**Act III, Scene XX**

_A dimly-lit LA street, nameless. Strolling casually along are Utrech and Yimsin, still in their ridiculously thin disguises. Since no-one is still giving them a passing glance, we have to assume the old appearance suppression spell is still working fine._

UTRECH: No-one was impressed, you know.

YIMSIN: Oh, you're just jaded, that's your trouble.

UTRECH: Subtlety is the key to these humans. Centuries we've been working together, and you still haven't figured that out.

YIMSIN: Subtlety is all very well, all very well. But sometimes, and damn me to Hell for saying it, you just need to blow up a floor of one of their buildings to get them to take any notice of you.

UTRECH: Hmph. (_beat_) Which one?

YIMSIN: Oh…the one with the boiling lakes of acid, and all those giant teeth things.

_He utters a small curse and bends down to rummage at his feet. Utrech, having been used to this for many, many years, simply stands and waits._

UTRECH: I was _sorely_ tempted not to tell that lawyer to duck.

YIMSIN: He's a slimy one, all right. You couldn't – ?

UTRECH: About a metre behind you. It's either your toe or a fossilised peanut. Slimy doesn't begin to cover it. As far as he was concerned, we were the Senior Partners, and yet he still had the audacity to sit there and lie to our f…to us.

YIMSIN: He's got backbone. (_bitterly_) Lucky bastard. So what now?

UTRECH: We do what we've always done. We watch. We record. We observe.

YIMSIN: And when the time comes…

UTRECH: When the time comes, my friend, we choose.

**Act III, Scene XXI**

_Our consignment of heroes burst into Caritas, all drama and furrowed brows (very like the 'group shot' they use in credits, in fact). They approach the Host, who's still leaning at the bar nursing another drink._

ANGEL: Where?

HOST: Would ya like to buy a sentence?

GUNN: We don't have time for –

HOST: Oh, settle, settle. Here comes the undead Boy Wonder now, anyway.

_Jules is indeed walking to the group. He seems unsure as to what his expression should be; from his point of view, things are confusingly positioned between fine – after all, Mel seems happy with her new lot – and very, very not fine._

ANGEL: Where is she?

JULES: Angel, I –

ANGEL: Save it. I saw it already. Where is she?

_Jules allows his gaze to travel downward. Held tightly in Angel's grasp is a stake. Wesley and Gunn too are packing. He backs off a step._

JULES: You're here to kill her, aren't you.

GUNN: We're a little late for that, wouldn't ya say?

JULES: You don't understand. She's – she's got a soul. (_to Lorne_) Tell them!

HOST: It's true. Denicron sphere. (_shrugs_) Use it as a discoball on retro nights.

_The grim certainty of purpose drains from Angel and Gunn. Neither seems sure what to say or do next._

WESLEY: You sired her?

JULES: I had to! She was dying in front of me! I couldn't just stand there and let h –

WESLEY: Please. Just answer the question.

JULES: (_quietly_) Yes. Yes, I sired her.

WESLEY: You're forming an entirely new breed of vampires. Anyone sired by the three of you will retain their soul – my God – the implications…

HOST: Nope.

_The word, though quietly spoken, cuts through Wesley's enthusiasm. Everyone turns to stare at the Host, who meets their eyes with typical calmness._

HOST: Hate to rain on your parade buddy boy, but the soul-retaining stops here. You've got yourselves a Trinity, but anyone who swaps the sticky juices with our three fun-loving avengers will be a normal vamp, lack of soul very much alive and kicking, your usual laugh-a-minute vacuous killer.

CORDELIA: You know all of this suddenly how?

HOST: We're dancing to an old, old tune here. Whose tune – anyone's guess. I'm not even sure I like the melody much. But the notes are there, sweetheart, and not so very far under the surface.

ANGEL: (_impatiently_) Where is she?

HOST: Somewhere even you can't go, big fella.

**Act III, Scene XXII**

_The ladies._

_Melissa enters, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. She crosses to the line of mirrors and sinks. As this is Caritas', most are occupied by things which stretch the definition of 'female' to breaking point. Selecting an unoccupied mirror at the far end of the row, she runs carefree fingers through her hair._

_Cordelia opens the door, very cautiously. Used as she is to the demonic underbelly of LA by now, she's still a bit taken aback by the strangeness of the menagerie of creatures in front of her. She spots Melissa and moves to her._

MELISSA: Hey, Cordy.

CORDELIA: How are you holding up?

MELISSA: Never felt deader, sister. I'm fine.

_Cordelia is about to reply when she realises something. Looking into the mirror, she sees only herself. Melissa, seemingly oblivious to this, persists in adjusting her hair. Cordelia sends a concerned look at the younger girl._

CORDELIA: I know what happened. You must be feeling –

MELISSA: Cordy. Don't tell me what I must be feeling, OK? Nothing's changed. Still can't seem to get my hair to behave itself. You'd think manageable hair would be a vampire gimme, surely?

CORDELIA: Nothing's changed? You're dead, Mel.

MELISSA: Some of my best friends are dead. (she turns to Cordelia) Except they're not still pretty. Killed for drugs, killed for kicks, some of them just plain disappeared from the face of the Earth. Always knew I'd end up a corpse one day, probably one day soon. What I didn't think –

_She lashes out with a fist behind her, pulverising a patch of wall and sending plaster flying. Murmurs of disquiet run up and down the remainder of the denizens of the room at this. Cordelia covers her nervousness with a familiar superior bearing._

MELISSA: – was that I'd end up as a corpse who could do _that_. How do you think it feels to be strong, Cordy, after so many years of hiding? Can you imagine that?

CORDELIA: No, I can't. I was always strong. I wasn't able to poke ventilation shafts in walls like some blondes I could mention, but I was strong. I got my strength from the wrong place, maybe, but it was still there.

MELISSA: (_disgusted_) Strength against what? Cutting comments? Dangerous essays? Drive-by brunches? You don't know the first –

_Cordelia slaps her._

_Melissa brings her hand to her cheek disbelievingly. She has vamped out. Behind them, the rest of the room's nose-powdering population watches intently._

CORDELIA: Strength against an invisible nutcase who tried to cut up my face. Strength against a reptile-demon worshipping bunch of college boys who put me up for sacrificing. Strength against a vampire who you might recognise hell-bent on killing me and my friends just so his ex-girlfriend would notice him again. Oh, and did I forget to mention the fifty-foot snake and his pet posse of fiends who invaded my graduation? So don't you ever, _ever_, think that your heart has to stop beating before you can stand up for yourself.

_Melissa makes no reply. Her yellowed eyes burn with anger, and humiliation. Her hand, still exploring the red weal of the slap, moves up to slowly touch and probe her ridged forehead._

CORDELIA: My nose feels powdered enough. I'm leaving. Are you coming or not?

MELISSA: I'll…(_she slumps_)…I'll be out a minute. Please, Cordy. I just…I just don't want Jules or the guys to see me like this.

CORDELIA: Sure. Mel?

MELISSA: Yeah?

CORDELIA: I'm sorry.

MELISSA: What for?

_They stare at each other for a moment. Cordelia smiles._

CORDELIA: Whenever you're ready.

_She leaves. Melissa fixes her stare to follow her for a moment. She smiles again, and turns to face one of the cubicles lining the opposite wall._

_We see its occupant. It is Charly._

MELISSA: Knock, knock…

_She is about to leap at the door when Cordelia pokes her head into the ladies again._

CORDELIA: Oh, hey, I probably should have said. There's a violence suppression spell over this place. It only affects demons and vamps, though. So (_she grins sheepishly_) that little stunt I played wasn't as impressive as it looked. Sorry.

_Melissa digests this. Her features return to their normal humanised state. Cordelia remains at the door as the cubicle opens and Charly exits casually, moving past Mel, crossing to the line of mirrors and adjusting her lipstick and hairstyle, constantly checking her reflection._

CORDELIA: You coming?

MELISSA: Yeah. I'm ready to go.

_She and Charly reach the door at the same time. Mel gestures and smiles broadly._

MELISSA: After you. I insist…

**Act III, Scene XXIII**

_Back at the hotel, which is getting ever more populated; around the central reception area are Gunn, Cordelia, Angel, Melissa and Jules. Standing a little way off the main group are Wesley and Grayson. Wesley is currently finishing a telephone call._

WESLEY: …once again, thank you, yes. (_replaces phone_) Damn!

GUNN: Nothing?

WESLEY: No contact from the group since yesterday morning. They were supposed to check in every three hours. I'm afraid it's looking rather grim, though Virginia says we shouldn't abandon all hope just yet.

ANGEL: What about Council boy here?

GRAYSON: I'm sure you of all people appreciate quite how rare Mohra blood is. The Council simply –

WESLEY: – has bottled lakes of the stuff, if I know the Council.

GRAYSON: I only wish we did. Sadly the underground market in the substance has been somewhat…cornered.

ANGEL: (_wearily_) Wolfram & Hart, right.

_We get a glance at Melissa. She's following the exchange closely, but seems to have no inclination to add anything to it._

JULES: Well then we pay them a visit, right?

ANGEL: There's no _we_ in this one. Not with Wolfram & Hart.

MELISSA: (_innocently_) What's so bad about these guys, anyway?

_Everyone else in the room – Grayson included – reacts to this question incredulously._

CORDELIA: Do ya have a millennium?

WESLEY: Wolfram & Hart are the most dangerous force of organised evil on the planet, Melissa.

GUNN: (_darkly_) Plus, they send you poisoned ham at Christmas.

GRAYSON: Oh, you received those as well? We've been getting one since the Reformation.

WESLEY: Wolfram & Hart have been around since the seventeenth century?

GRAYSON: Good God, no. Wolfram & Hart have been around much longer than that, though they haven't always gone by the same name. And they do not exist merely here, but in all dimensions, on all worlds. Fortunately, wherever they rear their head, the Powers That Be are there to combat them. With champions, like the Slayer.

_Realisation dawns on Jules. He meets Angel's eyes, understanding what was meant previously when the vampire mentioned Buffy and their special relationship._

GRAYSON: (_eagerly_) The uongy'tenre is our chance to rid this world of their influence. Surely the events of the past few days have been much more than coincidence. We need the Talisman of Arcon. We know it is held in the vaults of the Wolfram & Hart building here in Los Angeles. That same vault should contain enough Mohra blood to restore our two young friends here many, many times over. You will, of course, have the full resources of the Council to bring to bear on this task; this is top priority, let me assure you.

ANGEL: So why no Slayer?

_Grayson is stopped in his tracks. He stares at Angel, slightly open-mouthed._

GRAYSON: I don't understand –

ANGEL: Seems simple enough to me. Top priority for the Council. And the Council's number one weapon of choice is, and always has been, the Slayer.

WESLEY: So why isn't Buffy here? You did ask her for help?

GRAYSON: The Slayer is…not an option.

ANGEL: (_standing instantly_) Why?

GRAYSON: At this moment she has, ah, problems of her own.

_Angel lunges at Grayson and pins him to the reception desk. Wesley makes no move to stop him from doing so. There is a deathly silence, broken only by a slight choking._

ANGEL: What _kind_ of problems?

GRAYSON: There is…Sunnydale is under attack from…a God…Glory…trying to open the gateway to all dimensions…

ANGEL: And yet you're curiously unworried about this?

_He relaxes his grip slightly, enough to allow Grayson to speak without croaking._

GRAYSON: Because, you fool, if we can activate the uongy'tenre, Glory, for all her power, will be destroyed instantly. We need Buffy in Sunnydale to hold off her assault for as long as we know she can; if we brought her to LA, we would risk Glory opening the gateways unopposed.

WESLEY: What of Buffy? You're letting her go up against a God in the meantime?

_Angel releases Grayson and walks away. The Council man adjusts himself, sending a malice-filled glance to the retreating vampire's back._

ANGEL: Buffy can handle it. I know she can. She's coping with her mother's death better than I ever could have thought. She's strong.

MELISSA: (_whispering, to Jules_) Do I get the feeling that –

JULES: Mm hmm.

CORDELIA: Much as I hate to say it…aren't we forgetting someone a lot closer to home in all of this?

_The attention turns to her. She looks as if she's hating every word._

CORDELIA: If we really do need all the help we can get…

WESLEY: Out of the question. Totally and absolutely out of the question.

CORDELIA: Fine with me. Forget I mentioned it.

GUNN: Mentioned what?

ANGEL: It's worth thinking about.

GRAYSON: You…you surely can't be serious. The Council would never allow such a horrific risk.

JULES: What'd be such a risk?

ANGEL: Everyone needs a chance to prove themselves. Ask some people in here.

WESLEY: I think in this case, they've already proven themselves.

CORDELIA: A few times over.

MELISSA: (_to Gunn and Jules_) Did we skip the prologue here, or what?

ANGEL: It's an option. Nothing more.

GUNN: For the last time –

WESLEY: An option?! You would give consideration to springing a known murderer from jail at a time like this? One who also happens to be an active Slayer? One who tortured me and injured Cordelia on her last little soiree in these parts, before her oh-so-miraculous conversion to justice?

_He turns to the previously unenlightened trio._

WESLEY: Most of that was for your benefit, you realise.

_They gape back at him, open-mouthed, trying to absorb this latest in a long line of revelations. There is a long silence._

JULES: Oh. Thanks.

**Act III, Scene XIV**

_Wesley's office. Angel and Melissa enter. We catch a brief glimpse of Jules skulking around outside, sending furtive glances. Before closing the door, Angel sends a meaningful glare in the direction of the young vampire. Jules gets the message, and reluctantly stalks away. Angel takes his seat._

MELISSA: You don't have to say the same things you said to Jules, you know. I mean, he pretty much told me the big 'welcome to your nightmare' speech you gave him when he'd been sired.

_Angel says nothing_.

MELISSA: That said, I know we're different people, he and I. I mean you've probably figured that out by now. And I guess things are different now than they were back then, because he's…fitted in. Kinda. I, uh, I hope I can do the same.

_Angel makes an 'oh, really?' face._

MELISSA: Not exactly like he does. I don't know if I could do the whole champion of justice deal, fighting on the front lines. He's good at that (_she smiles proudly_), he's been doing it all his life I guess. Whereas me, I'm more your plain survivor.

_Angel absorbs this with a slight nod; whether this signifies agreement is not clear._

MELISSA: I need to know what I am, though, I mean I know that. And hey, I mean not only have I got you to help me, I've got Jules too, so it shouldn't – well, I know it'll be difficult, probably a lot more than I know, so you don't need to give me the old 'not nearly afraid enough' speech – but I think I can handle it…

_She trails off. Angel lets the silence reign for another few moments._

ANGEL: Well, now that the presentation is over, let's start the actual talking.

MELISSA: (_puzzled_) Presen –

ANGEL: Don't patronise me, Melissa. You're right; you're a different person to Jules. You're a writer. I know writers – I ate some of the best. They rehearse things. You've already been through this meeting in your mind. You've written it. And that's great, shows you're a good writer. One problem, though; you're damn well going to listen to what I have to say, and you won't if you think it's done already.

MELISSA: So everything I said back there was irrelevant? It wasn't basically what you were about to tell me now? Is that it?

ANGEL: Some, sure. It's gotta come from _me_, though. Not you. That's how it works. If you don't like it, there are (_he pauses_) other options. Now, do you listen?

MELISSA: All ears.

ANGEL: See, I can't win here. It'd be bad enough if you thought I was human; I'd still be older than you, too many years for you to think anything I said applied to you. But hell (_laughs mirthlessly_) I'm a _vampire_! I'm centuries past you. So if I tell you that you remind me of someone I knew, you're gonna think –

MELISSA: – big surprise –

ANGEL: – you got it. It's true, though. And the thing is, the person you remind me of, I only met her a few years ago. Smart girl, this one. Hailed from Boston, didn't exactly grow up in the lap of luxury. Used to viewing things in terms of me versus them. Power dropped into her lap, power she didn't ask for.

MELISSA: Claimed by the darkness she swore she could handle.

_Angel narrows his eyes. The tension in the room is palpable._

ANGEL: Just because you can storyboard it doesn't mean you can imagine it.

MELISSA: Just because you fear it doesn't mean it'll happen.

ANGEL: I see the same conflict in you.

MELISSA: I see the same conflict in _everyone_.

ANGEL: Not everyone can do the damage you can do. The other girl had a choice between the light and the dark. She reached out, she came to me for guidance.

MELISSA: And you blame yourself.

ANGEL: I showed her what the dark was, how it could absorb you and never spit you out. She went right ahead and she immersed herself.

MELISSA: Some people are made for the shadows.

ANGEL: _No-one_ is made for the shadows. But they're there if you want them.

MELISSA: I _get_ it. OK? I get it. You know, maybe you don't quite remember what it was like to be human, Angel, but I do. And when you spend a lifetime running and come back from the dead, hey, for a while you get pretty excited. I'm sorry if this is immature of me, to be glad to still be…to still have a chance of being alive again, but it seems you've already made up your mind I'm bad news.

ANGEL: I haven't. Have you?

MELISSA: (_angrily_) What I make of myself is my business!

ANGEL: Just so long as you know that I'll always be there.

MELISSA: Oh yes. To turn out the lights.

ANGEL: If you're not afraid of the dark, Melissa…now would be a good time to start.

**Act III, Scene XXV**

_An alley, thronged with gang members. Human, though we're stretching the definition a little. If anyone here isn't packing a weapon, they're keeping quiet about it. We linger on numerous vguns and more conventional weaponry. At the head of the throng stands Devasson's sewer lieutenant Alice, her face bruised and swelling from the beating dished out to her by Melissa earlier. She seems fairly pissed off._

ALICE: If they did this to the boss, they'll come after us too. I know there's some of you want to make your jump for the big chair, but it can wait.

_She hefts a particularly vicious looking rifle._

ALICE: We take them down. All of 'em. But no-one kills the girl but me. Got it?

_Shouts of agreement mingle with a few bursts of excited gunfire into the air._

ALICE: Move out.

**Act III, Scene XXVI**

_A glass of blood, standing on the reception desk. We pull out to reveal Melissa contemplating it, Jules beside her. Behind them a full-blown debate is going on between the adults and Grayson, though every so often a lingering glance will be directed toward the younger pair._

MELISSA: (_softly_) Before, when I drank it, God it was disgusting.

JULES: It didn't show.

MELISSA: Hey, I was trying to put you at ease. When you left the room I must have brushed and flossed about eight times. Our sink looked like it had been napalmed.

_Jules laughs and kisses her tenderly. She smiles at him nervously._

JULES: You need to drink, Mel. The living skeleton look wouldn't work on you.

MELISSA: Large glass of blood for Hollywood celebs, stat.

_She grasps the glass and raises it to her lips._

MELISSA: Cheers…

_She gulps down the contents of the glass, slowly at first but with increasing speed. Once finished she replaces the glass on the desk…a little too emphatically. Shards of glass slide off in all directions._

MELISSA: Oops.

_Jules tries to give her a reassuring look, but both become aware of the total silence from behind them. As if fixed to turntables, they face the eyes of the five watchers._

CORDELIA: OK. Gonna get interesting when someone gets a papercut around here.

_The attention of the larger group shifts back to the matter at hand; Angel is last to drag his gaze from his twin protégés._

WESLEY: We've penetrated Wolfram & Hart's defences before, you seem to forget.

GRAYSON: And as such, you can be sure that you will not do so in the same fashion again. A new approach will be required.

GUNN: Someone mentioned flamethrowers a while ago.

CORDELIA: We've got other problems than Wolfram & Hart.

_This is an unexpected comment, from an unexpected source. She rolls her eyes._

CORDELIA: Hello? Since when has Angel been Vision Boy?

WESLEY: She's right. Angel must be getting visions for a specific purpose.

GRAYSON: I wasn't informed of this.

CORDELIA: Oh, excuse us for not publishing rushes for the Watcher's Council. Maybe it had something to do with you trying to kill us all last time.

ANGEL: We need answers from the Powers. With the Oracles gone –

GRAYSON: There are other methods.

ANGEL: Hoping you'd say that. Let's hear them.

GRAYSON: You must leave the matter with me. Our resources are extensive, but spread rather thinly at the moment. It's the best I can do.

_Angel and Wesley exchange a brief look. Wesley nods almost imperceptibly; this seems good enough for Angel to drop the matter._

GRAYSON: Fortunately, one such resource may of be more immediate use to us in our current problem with Wolfram & Hart. We have –

_His mobile radio squeals in alarm, cutting off whatever he was about to add. Frowning, Grayson retrieves it from his belt, adjusting frequencies slightly._

GRAYSON: Say again?

_The front windows of the hotel are promptly shattered by a hail of bullets. Everyone dives for cover where they can find it, desperately trying to get away from the flying glass and debris. Shouts and whoops of joy are heard outside, followed by the sound of many approaching feet._

CORDELIA: (_screaming_) I think he said _you're all going to die…_

**END OF ACT III**


End file.
